Past the Point of No Return
by Spikes Bint
Summary: Set around the movie not the book. Time- Six Months after the fire at the Opera house, Christine is now a married woman, but still her Angel calls to her. COMPLETE
1. Past the point of no return

The Phantom's lair

He watched as his boat carried her away, she turned to look at him one last time and he caught an emotion close to longing in her eyes. All too soon she was lost from view in the darkness of the catacombs. He really believed at that moment, that if she could have torn herself in two, she would have come to him and stayed at his side, but the pull of air and light and freedom was too strong for her young heart.

The rage and loss bubbled up inside of him as he grabbed a huge candelabrum and smashed the large mirror, loathing the reflection of the hideous creature he saw in its silvery depths. His anger not yet sated he smashed another and another, to reveal a tunnel. The cries of the angry mob grew louder to his ears as he stepped inside and drew the curtain over the smashed mirror frame.

He wiped away his tears, she had kissed him, and the canker which distorted his face had mattered not to her. For one blinding moment she had looked on him with love and had kissed his lips as if she was kissing a lover, and he had felt her warmth. It had eased that ache of loneliness which was his burden to bear. He knew he could not condemn her to a life of darkness, and as much as it pained him he had released her.

He knew that he could disappear into the maze of tunnels never to be found, but he had meant it when he said that the music was over. The opera house above him burned, a few stray tendrils of smoke had reached even these depths. There would be no more Christine to fill his waking moments, with her voice ringing out strong and true, filling his solitude with her song. He continued up the tunnel until he came to a small alcove. It was purposely equipped for such an occasion as this one. He took the black travelling cape and bag filled with bank notes and coins and small bag with some fresh clothing and an exact replica of the white papier mache mask he had left behind.

He clenched the ring she had given him, so tightly that the stones dug into the flesh of his palm, causing it to bleed, not unlike his tattered heart. As he scrambled out of the basements of the opera house, he was in time to see Christine alight a carriage; tethered to those same fine horses he had mocked the viscomte for only moments ago.

His heart broke afresh, seeing them wrapped in each others arms. He stood for as long as he dared as the carriage disappeared into the night mist before disappearing in the opposite direction.

Madame Giry stepped out from the shadows and watched him walk away from the only home he had ever known since his flight for freedom those long years ago. He was fleeing into the world for the first time, she hoped in her heart that the fates would look down on him with kindness, of which had so far been denied him.

"Au revoir mon ami," she whispered to him, touching her fingers to her lips, as she turned away in the direction of the opera house dorms where her daughter Meg waited with the others.

* * *

Six Months Later, the Chagny estate.

Christine settled back into her husband's arms, their tour of Europe had been perfect. The wedding had been the stuff of fairy tales; they had departed on their trip almost immediately after the ceremony, wanting to wipe away the memories of their ordeal at the hands of her maestro. She glanced at Raoul, whom was fast asleep in the luxurious interior of their carriage. She looked out of the window at the fast approaching night, she closed her eyes for a moment, and it was then that the memory of her angel of music flooded her head like the remembrance of a beloved song. Would she ever be free, _did she want to?_ A traitorous part of her mind whispered to her.

Only now, when she was a married woman in the fullest sense of the word, did she understand the strange feelings that Erik had invoked in her. The emotions that had coursed through her as they had sung together on the stage when he had caressed her skin and she had given into his touch willingly. It was only later that Raoul had told her that it had been like watching another man make love to her on the stage and that he feared he had lost her forever.

The words of that song came back to her…_how long should we two wait before we're one_ She had wanted his touch, her body had been in flames with desire for him and he had read it in her eyes. She drew back in shock as her mind imagined his hands on her naked skin, caressing her, making music of the flesh, while her cries rang out as if on a crescendo of an aria. Raoul had been closer to the truth than she would ever dare admit. Her cheeks flushed guiltily at her immoral thoughts; even now her absentee tutor still had a frightening hold over her. Raoul owned her heart, but the phantom owned her soul, and that scared her more than anything.

She wondered if he still resided in his dark self inflicted prison beneath the burned out opera house or maybe he had found love and sunlight to warm his tortured soul. She hoped he had for his sake. His disfigurement had meant nothing to her, when she had kissed him she had not even seen it, loving him for the man that he was and the gift of music he had bestowed upon her, his student.

The carriage jolted at it hit a rut in the road, causing her husband to awaken. He looked over at her and smiled.

"What should cause such sadness on a day like this?" he asked her, moving closer to her.

She shivered as if someone had stepped on her grave. The moment passed and she smiled at him. "Not sad my love, just wondering how I will fare as mistress of such a large household," she lied.

Raoul heard the lie in her voice, but dismissed it. He often saw the dark shadows of the past in her eyes, knowing they would never be fully gone from them. He knew that the phantom had managed to reach her heart in a way he never could, but that he had her love was enough for him.

He lowered his head to kiss her before pulling away, holding onto her hand. "You will do just fine, how can they help but love you, as I do?" he asked. "Besides, Madame Giry is there so you will not be totally among strangers,"

She smiled at him, having forgotten of her former guardian's new appointment as housekeeper. Meg had joined a ballet corps and still lived in Paris. She missed her friend whom was almost a sister to her. But now her future lay within the grey walls of her husband's chateau and her singing abandoned to her new station in life. She sighed wistfully as she remembered her days when nothing else had existed except the stage and the music.

The carriage finally came to its journey's end, a few feet from the main door. Staff was already lined up to greet the new mistress. She felt daunted at the sheer number of people it took to maintain the viscomte's residence. She smiled at all the expectant faces as her husband assisted her from the carriage. Madame Giry was standing at the top of the steps, a smile of welcome on her face.

_**Christine I love you….**_

She looked at her husband, her eyes widening. "Did you hear that?" she asked. She looked at Madame Giry, her earlier smile had faded as she turned and walked inside the great house.

Her husband looked at her strangely "No my love I heard nothing, come let's get you inside, you are fatigued by our long journey," he smiled, putting an arm around her and leading her up the stone steps and into the main hall.

"Yes, that must be it," she agreed as he led her to the parlour where a roaring fire greeted them both. She rubbed her hands drawing warmth from the fire, but as much as she tried it failed to permeate the coldness that had settled in her heart.

She lay awake in the huge expanse that was her bed, her husband asleep, one arm flung over his head. They had made tender love only an hour earlier, as much as she loved her husband, it always felt as if there was something lacking or he were holding back from her. Her spirit was wild and dark on the inside, something that she kept hidden from her tender husband, and she yearned to be loved in that way. Passion burned and consumed and ate at the soul. She had sung it in song and she longed to experience it in body.

Her desires had not been sated by Raoul's touch…she closed her eyes and her Angel's image flooded her mind. _How could she have these feelings for one man while wed to another?_ She asked herself. After a quick glance at her husband to re-assure herself that he continued to sleep; she pulled back the covers and left the bed to walk over to the balcony and open the windows on the silvery moonlight. The park was large and shadowy and dark.

He watched from the shadows drawing back as she walked out into the night air, her form outlined in her sheer night garments, leaving nothing to his starved imagination. He heard her sigh, carried on the wind, the sound called out to him. She closed her eyes as his song, softly sung reached her ears. She smiled sadly, convinced that it was her mind playing tricks on her again. The sound ran through her veins like molten fire, and she touched her throat. Her hand of its own volition, slowly creeping lower, to touch a lace covered breast.

His voice almost faltered for a moment as he watched her touching herself so intimately, wishing it were his hands stroking her to completion. He continued to sing, continuing to observe her. Her little gasp was almost his undoing as his voice died in his throat. Her eyes snapped open as if awakened from a trance. She flushed guiltily and she looked around, as if sensing she was not alone. Quickly, walking back inside, Christine closed the doors and rejoined her husband in bed.

Erik turned and fled back to his home, the ruined summerhouse at the edges of the viscomte de Chagny's vast estate, his body thrumming with unsated desire for his soul mate, who even now called out to him in the darkness.

TBC


	2. House of Gingerbread

A/N Thanks for reading the first chapter, it is the same as the one I have been posting at AFFN, but more a cleaner version. (Don't want to get my ass banned over here lol)

The House of Gingerbread Chapter 2

Christine awoke in the darkened room, disorientated for a moment before remembering where she was. She turned to smile at her husband only to find the place he should have occupied, empty. She lay back against the pillows as she recalled her strange dream of the previous night; it had felt so vivid and real. Before she had time to examine it further, the drapes were flung back and bright sunlight flooded the room.

Madame Giry stood there, a strained smile on her lips. "Good morning Madame, your husband told me to wake you if it got too late,"

"Please call me Christine; nothing has changed,"

"As you wish child, there is some breakfast in the main dining room if you are hungry," she replied, as she made to leave the room.

"And where is my husband?"

Madame Giry sighed. "He told me to inform you that he has gone to town on some urgent business. He said to expect him back in the evening,"

"Er Madame…"

"Yes?"

"Which way is it to the dining room?"

Madam Giry smiled at her. "I have some things to take care of. I will return in half an hour and take you there myself,"

Christine smiled her thanks and Madam Giry exited the room, shortly after that, a young maid arrived to help her dress. Christine felt awkward, used to taking care of herself from an early age. She sat at her dressing table while the girl fixed her hair. She looked not much older than herself.

"What is your name?" Asked Christine,

"Charlotte, Madame,"

"It is very nice to make your acquaintance Charlotte,"

"You have such beautiful hair Madame, I hear you were a singer at the Opera Populaire," she chattered on. "And that there was a phantom that guided your voice…that he was wild and passionate and dangerous, and his music could…"

Christine whitened. "Thank you that will be all,"

The girl looked at her with frightened eyes. "Forgive me, my tongue runs away with its self…it's just that there was talk…"

"Talk of what?" demanded Christine.

"I dare not say,"

"Speak; you have nothing to fear from me,"

The girl looked uncomfortable, as she played with the edges of her starched white apron. "They say that you and the phantom were lovers…until you met the master that is,"

Both their heads turned as the doors to Christine's bedchamber was opened. "Enough girl, be about your duties," said Madame Giry sharply. Charlotte curtsied at them both and almost ran from the room. "Take no notice of her; there will always be gossip among the staff,"

"Is it really what they are saying of me?" asked Christine.

Madame Giry looked at her sadly. "It was that final performance on the stage…they said no two people could sing together like that and not be…er intimate,"

"But it's not true…" She slumped down in her seat, her eyes meeting Madame Giry's in the mirror. "What happened to him…after the fire?" she asked softly.

"I do not know. He saw you leave, I saw him leave and then nothing more," The lies fell easily form Madame Giry's lips, she loved Christine, but would protect the pitiful creature she had saved those long years past. She had heard whispers that he was not gone from Paris at all, but she dismissed it as idle gossip.

Christine breathed a sigh of relief, whatever she desired for him; death was not part of it. Maybe Raoul was right, they would never be free unless he was dead, but the world without him seemed a colder place to her.

"I will take you to breakfast now Christine,"

Christine shook her head. "No thank you, I have lost my appetite, I think I will go for a walk instead,"

"Would you like me to accompany you?" asked Madame Giry.

"No, but maybe if I could have some breadcrumbs just in case I get lost?" Teased Christine, her humour returning.

"Ah, but the birds would eat them," replied Madame Giry.

"I will be fine, as long as I don't come across a gingerbread house," smiled Christine.

* * *

The new day was warm and bright, a total contrast to the previous day. Much of the gloom had lifted and with it her spirits. She missed her husband, but this was the first taste of freedom she had experienced in a long time. After the phantom had abducted her, Raoul had been afraid to let her from his sight. Now she was safely installed on his estate, he obviously did not still harbour those fears.

The landscape that stretched before her was beautiful, the air so clean and fresh away from the city. Everything was elemental to her senses. Here she could roam free. She spun around like a child, her arms stretched out before her. Feeling pride that she was mistress of all she surveyed. She was alone, the house was but a distant mark on the horizon and it felt wonderful. A breeze picked up and blew some leaves across her path. She looked up, finding herself at the edge of a copse. It looked dark and unwelcoming, but the sun that had shone so brightly had disappeared behind some gathering rain clouds. As she felt the first splash of rain hit her skin, she ran for the shelter the trees afforded her. Within seconds the thin silk of her dress was plastered to her body as the rain began to fall in earnest.

She shivered, and looked around her, surprised as she noticed the outline a building of sorts deep inside the woods. Thinking to be the gamekeeper's hut she made for it, hoping would be unoccupied. As she got closer, she could see the welcoming glow of candlelight shining from one of the cracked windows. From the exterior it looked as if it had once been a fine house, but the paint on the door was cracked and peeling. The window frames, though still intact were in a state of advanced decay.

She knocked on the door, but only silence greeted her. She took a breath and tried the handle; it opened easily beneath her touch. _Maybe this was the gingerbread house that she had joked about to Madame Giry _she mused. She warily put her head around the door, gasping in surprise, for the interior was nothing like it had led her to believe. It was clean, but sparsely furnished. An armchair sat in a darkened corner, alongside it was a small table. More noticeably was a baby grand piano which dominated the smallish room. She walked over to it, and touched the keys, testing one. She continued to look around the room at the rich velvets and silks draped over the windows, the majority of which were covered with shutters, closing out most of the natural sunlight.

She yearned to be out of her wet clothing, as she shivered in the chill of the room. The fire had long since died; she glanced at the fading embers in the grate. Christine walked over to the far side of the room, opening another door into a bedroom. Candlelight glowed softly on the huge bed that dominated the room; it's only illumination in the gloom. She breathed in a heady scent of flowers. Whoever lived here had an artistic heart for everything seemed designed to touch the senses. She walked over to a wardrobe, feeling guilty for her intrusion, but necessity demanded that she find something warm and dry before she was chilled to the bone. She was surprised to see such beautiful garments as the ones that hung inside. Quickly she shed her wet dress which landed at her feet in a damp puddle.

She reached for a dress from the wardrobe, her hands stilling as she noticed a decanter of brandy by the bed. A crystal tumbler rested alongside it, _dare she take a sip_, _it would warm the coldness that was seeping through her bones,_ her inner voice urged her.

She pulled out the stopper and poured a small amount into the glass and sipped at it cautiously. It warmed her as it slid down her throat and radiated through her body. She sat down sharply on the bed; her head swam as she lay back against the cool sheets. The room was spinning and the blood ran through her veins like silk. Her breathing felt constricted by her corset. She fumbled with the fastenings to release herself from its tight bindings. She heard the creak of a floorboard and saw the door open through a hazy mist of her semi consciousness.

Her eyes widened as a dark shadowy figure entered the room, she felt as if she should flee, but her legs refused to work as she lay back helpless on some stranger's bed. The candles in the corner sputtered and died shrouding the room in semi-darkness. Panic started to rise within her as he advanced on her. She sensed there was something familiar in the shape of his form. He turned to face her, and she caught the glimpse of an unforgettable white mask. She closed her eyes against it, and opened them again, but he was still there standing over her. Christine felt the mattress give way as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Christine," he breathed in the seductive tones she knew so well.

"Erik," she answered him; her body ached languidly at the sound of his voice.

His eyes never leaving her face as his hands wandered to her cheek to caress it with a red rose. He re-lit the candle by the bed, causing a soft light to cast shadows on the planes of her body. She gasped as the rose touched her breast. He sucked in a breath at her body's reaction to his touch. The rose fell on the sheets, forgotten as he removed a black glove and let it drop to the floor. She looked at him as helplessly as if bound to the bed by chains.

"No, Raoul," cried in alarm.

"Where is he at this moment? You are home but a day and he abandons you,"

"This is not real; it is some kind of dream,"

Erik rested a hand against the curve of her breast "Tell yourself that if it comforts you,"

She closed her eyes.

"No look at me, I want you to see who is touching you,"

"And still you hide behind the mask," she panted.

"For now, but you shall know me, all of me and welcome my touch," he replied passionately.

"Never!"

"You lie even now I can read it in your eyes. That milk and water boy is not what you need…what you crave. Give into your darkness, I know you better than you know yourself. Give yourself to me Christine,"

He gently tugged at one of the straps of her chemise, pulling it down to expose a creamy skinned shoulder. She watched impotently as he bent his head, glancing at her before his tongue darted out to touch her exposed flesh. Her fingers crept into his hair, in an attempt to push him away, but some how they ended up pulling him down against her. He lifted his head, his eyes sparkling with a passion that was mirrored in her own. She looked beautiful to him, the rose-pink hue of her cheeks, and the way her breasts rose and fell with each breath. He ran a hand slowly down her stomach.

"What are you doing?"

"What you dreamed of Christine, touching you. I would have married you, honoured you for the rest of our lives, but…"

He stopped his bitter tirade as he continued to undress her. His breath was warm against her skin and as much as she loathed herself at that moment, she did not fight him. Her fingers bunched the sheets as spots formed in front of her eyes at the sensations hurtling through her.

"Madame…Christine?"

The sensual spell that he seemed to have her under was broken at the sound of another's voice, a voice Erik knew all too well. He hurriedly covered her body and wrapped the sheets over her. He departed the room through a concealed exit behind the wardrobe only moments before Madame Giry burst through the bedroom door.

"Christine?"

"Help-m-me," she replied.

"You got caught in the rain storm; I came looking for you," Madame Giry noted her heated face and put a hand to her forehead. "You are burning up, we must get you home before you catch your death," Her sharp eyes fell on the glass next to the decanter; she lifted it to her nose and smelled it. There was a sweet smell to it that was unfamiliar to brandy. "Come let us get you back to the house, this will all seem a dream," Before she assisted her young charge from the bed, she saw the red rose, a black ribbon tied around the stem and she paled. _So the rumours were true, he had returned._

TBC


	3. Guilty Secrets

A/N Thanks all for the review, they were appreciated

Chapter 3

Guilty Secrets

Erik waited in his hiding place until both the women were gone. No doubt Madame Giry was aware of his presence that he had until this moment managed to hide, but he trusted her to remain faithful to his secret. She had protected him thus far, and she was one of the few people that had his confidence.

His body still ached with frustrated desire as he thought of Christine. She had wanted him, it had nothing to do with the opium laced brandy he kept by his bedside to aid his troubled nights. She was the only woman he had touched, had ever wanted to touch in his whole lonely existence. From the day she had arrived at the opera house dorms all frightened and alone, he had felt a connection to her. She was fresh with grief for her recently departed father and he a youth no more than twenty had recognised himself in her.

At first his only wish had only been to protect her from the harshness of the world, which he had experienced, knowing the pain of being friendless and alone all too well. As she had grown in age and beauty, he had felt his heart warm towards her and for the first time in his piteous existence he had dared to dream that he was not destined to solitude for a cruel fate at birth. When alone, he still felt the sting of his master's club beating his bruised flesh as he was exposed for the public's amusements. She had chased all that away as he had felt the stirrings of desire for her. He had been responsible for her sensual awakening into womanhood and the viscomte had reaped the rewards that should have been his. She had denied him and betrayed him, to a childhood memory in the shape of the handsome viscomte.

Waiting a few moments more, he re-entered his bedroom and found the rose crushed against the sheets. He could still smell her fragrance in the empty room. He walked over to the window and watched Christine walk away from him yet again. The delicate petals of the flower he held fell to the floor unheeded. He slammed his fist against the sill in bitter frustration, and he turned and went into the other room of the house and sat at the piano. Here at least he could find some release, he closed his eyes and touched the keys, before pounding at them violently. They vibrated and thrummed beneath his touch as Christine had writhed beneath him, even now he could still feel the heat of her body.

He closed the lid to the piano, with a sigh and walked back to his room and lay on the bed, occupying the same place she had only a short while ago.

"Christine," he whispered with longing to the silent room.

* * *

"Thank you Madame Giry. I think I needed a guide after all," sighed Christine as she was helped into bed. "I drank some brandy at that old house and felt unwell, everything after that was a little muddled," lied Christine; her cheeks were tinged with the evidence of her lies. "Who lives there?"

"I have no idea," Madame Giry replied smoothly, as she arranged the sheets around the girl.

"Oh, it's just that I could have sworn someone was there with me…someone," she broke off.

She was still uncertain exactly what had transpired in _that_ house, but she was not ready to scrutinize it with her stand-in mother. She still had Raoul to face after so wantonly having welcomed another's touch, whether it were real or imagined. She could still feel the imprint of his kisses on her flesh. Even now she craved more, disgusted at her infidelity of mind and possibly body, she hid her face in the pillows.

"Please leave me,"

"If you are sure Christine, maybe I should send for a doctor?" she asked hesitantly.

"No, I will be fine I just need to rest," Christine replied turning over in the bed to face the wall. What ever she was ailing for, she was sure no physician could cure.

The idea that Erik could be back and living on her husband's estate was too shocking to give credence to. No, she had just fallen asleep and had had another dream about her old master. She shivered, her eyes widening at the idea that she should think of him so. Raoul if anyone held that title. _Then why were all these unbidden desires coming back to haunt her?_ She knew she should tell her husband of the strange events that had occurred this afternoon, but she found she was reluctant to. Just the mention of her tutor's name sent him into a black humour. He was merciful in many things except where it came to his rival and _what_ could she say without condemning herself?

Her thoughts were disturbed by the arrival of her husband in a flurry of concern as he strode towards the bed. Sometimes she found it stifling; he treated her as if she were a porcelain doll, about to break at any time. Guilty at her disloyal thoughts, she turned her face towards him in the semblance of a smile. Seeing such adoration for her on his face caused tears to spring to her eyes, as she felt she must look the immoral woman she surely was. The phantom had talked of her darkness, he knew her better than she knew herself, and she knew deep down that she had been denying her true nature beneath a cloak of respectability. There was something almost spiritual in the way Erik's blood called to her own, she felt it even now, that pull, that desire, for him.

"Are you sick? Should I call for doctor Vaullario?" He asked, touching a hand to her forehead. "You are burning up!"

She shook her head "No really I am well, I just need to get some rest," she assured him.

He took her tiny hand in his. "Is there any chance that you could be enceinte?"

She blushed. "No, at least I don't think so,"

"I am sorry, I just had to ask," he smiled at her gently.

Christine let out a breath she had been holding in. She knew that there was always pressure on landed noblemen to procure an heir as soon as possible, even though their young lives stretched out before them. She smiled at the thought of children, family to warm her days, and lessen her feeling of loneliness that still washed over her at times. She had hoped to be with child on the return of their wedding trip, but as of yet that joy had been denied her.

Her thoughts drifted unbidden to Erik again, in a way they had been two of a kind, adrift in the world, and alone by no fault of their own. They had comforted each other with their mutual love of music and the arts. She no longer judged him for his murderous acts. Not that it made his actions right, but he did not know better, having had no benefit of a guardian to raise him, save Madame Giry and she had been busy with her own family after the death of her husband. With sudden insight she realised that she had been his saviour as much as he had been hers.

"I'm tired Raoul," she sighed, stroking his cheek.

He bent his head to kiss her hand. "And that is my cue to leave?" he asked.

"And I thought you knew nothing of the arts!" she smiled up at him.

"I know enough to know I fell in love all over again when I met a beautiful talented actress," he replied.

"Who is she? If I catch her…" she started laughing at his stunned expression. "Really Raoul you are wonderful for my self-esteem,"

"I just thank every day that you chose me, over that monster," he said gravely.

Her smile faded. "Let's not talk of such things; I need to get some sleep so that I will be fit to join you for dinner,"

"Very well my love, I have invited several friends over. It is time I showed you off to my neighbours," he said before taking her hand and kissing it.

She smiled at him until he had left the room. Her cheeks aching with the effort, relaxed as soon as the door closed behind him. Christine buried her head in the pillows and wept until sleep finally claimed her.

* * *

Dinner had been a success in Raoul's eyes, he had chatted comfortably with old friends, while Christine had smiled at all the right times, feeling unable to compete with the history that Raoul and his comrades shared. After all she was nothing, but the daughter of a humble violinist, whom although died in fame, but had left her without fortune. And tonight for some reason tonight she felt it more keenly, she wasn't sure if it was the pointed looks of their guests, and glances they gave her, as if expecting her to do something indecorous at any moment, or her own insecurities that had made her feel so.

She removed her clothing for bed, Raoul helping her out of her undergarments, the maid having been dismissed for the evening. She sighed as he pressed soft kisses against her throat and encircled her waist, bringing her up against his hard body. She turned in his arms and returned his kisses, before pulling away.

"Do you mind awfully? I am so tired after all that occurred today my love," she asked.

He nodded at her in understanding. She almost wavered, at his gentle acquiescence, feeling she did not deserve this wonderful man before her, but she could not submit to him in good conscience after her earlier sinful behaviour. The more she thought about it, the more she realised it could not have been a dream. She lay down next to her husband and waited until she heard his even breathing before rising from her bed and quickly dressing in her black riding habit and making for the stables. So far she had been undetected as she led her horse out of the stable, not mounting it until she was on soft grass.

She rode at a full gallop until she reached her destination. She dismounted her horse and tied it to a tree and entering the darkened copse. The soft glow of a candle, peeping through the wooden slats of the abandoned house beckoned her. Her heart raced within her breast as she grew nearer to her goal. For a moment she faltered as she questioned her behaviour, but her feet kept bringing her closer as she felt his pull once more.

She stood before the door, hardly daring to breathe for fear she would give herself away. The decision was taken away from her as the door was wrenched open and a figure, cloaked in partial shadow stood there looking at her. His breathing was as ragged as her own.

"I-I don't understand why I am here," she whispered.

"Christine the heart will always want what it should not have," he replied roughly.

"But my husband,"

"Tonight there are no husbands and wives, only you and I. Come to me Christine," he held out an arm and moved to the side of the door, allowing her entrance.

She cautiously put her hand in his and allowed him to lead her inside the house and he closed and locked the door behind them.

TBC


	4. Dark Despair

Chapter 4

Dark Despair

They stood facing each other in the darkened room, nothing, but the sound of their breathing to break the silence. He watched the warring emotions flit across her face as a battle raged within her. She wanted to be here, but it was killing her too. He could see it in the glitter of tears that shone in her chocolate brown eyes as she looked at him helplessly. His hold over her not lessened in the months they had been apart. Her easy submission to him had pleased him beyond any words that she could have spoken in the moment that she had taken his hand and followed him inside the house.

By putting herself into his keeping he wanted there to be no regrets on her part. He wanted her to have the full knowledge that she was betraying her husband with every touch and moment of pleasure he gave her. Christine had his heart even now, but the bitter anger he felt at her betrayal of all they had had and meant to each, other still burned inside of him no matter how deep his feelings for her went. She had made her choice, the handsome viscount, and he had been left to pick up the pieces of his existence.

She was surprised as he walked over to the piano and sat down. His head bowed over the keys and he began to play a haunting melody which floated around the room. Christine gasped as the pull of the music flooded her soul. She gripped the edges of the chair as it continued to wrap its self around her like the erotic touch of a lover.

She closed her eyes hoping to stem the tears that threatened to spill. "It's beautiful," she whispered, her words, she had thought, drowned out by the music.

Suddenly the playing ceased as he slammed the lid down on the piano and strode across the room, shocking her, as her eyes snapped open to find his face was but mere inches from her own.

"It was for you," he growled at her.

The fury blazed in his eyes, frightening her and arousing her at the same time. She trembled at the heat building in the pit of her stomach and spreading through her. Erik put out a hand and touched the pulse in her throat, feeling her accelerated heartbeat.

She did not flinch away from his touch as his hand moved lower. A long finger stroked the edges of her black riding dress, to slowly pop the buttons and slid a hand inside. She looked deep into his eyes, held by the emotions she read in them, the love and adoration he struggled to hide, but failed. She responded to it, in a basic primeval way, returning the look, as she unconsciously licked her suddenly dry lips. Erik sucked in a breath as he followed the movements of her tongue. His other hand pulled at the pins in her hair to let it fall in waves around her shoulders.

"Why did you come back?" she asked.

He looked at her, "Need you ask? I tried to stay away, thought I was doing the right thing letting you go, I need you Christine," He admitted on a sigh.

She gasped as his hand slipped lower and cupped her breast.

"Don't," she begged.

He smiled at her, "Don't," he mimicked cruelly_. "_Your lips may say one thing, but your eyes and body beg for my touch. You can't hide from me Christine, you never could," He pulled her roughly against him, making her aware of his need for her. "I felt it that night on the stage and I feel it now,"

He lowered his head, his breath heavy against her lips as they touched hers, lightly as first, before grinding against them in a soul destroying kiss. Christine struggled until, the heat of his kiss reached through her. She opened her mouth to him, his tongue invading her deeply. She trembled against him; sure she would have fallen if he had not held on to her so tightly. She cried out as he tore the front of her dress, and sent the buttons flying onto the hard wooden floor. She welcomed the ferocity of his caresses as he lifted her up against the wall and ground himself against her. She wrapped a leg around his waist as his lips travelled down her throat.

Christine wound her fingers into his hair, as she felt his tongue at her bare breast. Her hands left his hair as she tugged at the edges of his mask, but he took her questing hand and pinned it above the wall, his eyes glittered angrily at her.

"Has he ever made you feel this way? You burn for me Christine, for my possession of your body. This is the point of no return, no more make believe,"

He swept her up in his arms and carried her effortlessly to the bedroom, laying her gently on the bed. As she lay back on the pillows, tears fell down her cheeks, they were almost his undoing. But he hardened his heart against them as he continued his assault on her body and her senses.

"The point of no return," she replied softly, knowing that begging was futile and would only sound false in this truth.

In her heart she knew that this moment was always fated to happen from the instant she had seen her Angel in the flesh. She had shared things with him that should have been for Raoul alone, but she could no longer feel shame as he joined her on the bed and covered her body with his own. How could she? When it felt as if she were coming home. Her body knew its mate no matter how much she railed against it.

Erik lifted himself to look down at her, drinking in the sight of her, on his bed as he had imagined a thousand times in his dreams. She helped him with the remaining buttons on her dress. He pulled it down her body and dropped it to the floor. She slipped her hands underneath the edges of his shirt and helped him pull it over his head. His body did not suffer from the same infirmity of his face. He was as beautifully sculpted as she had imagined.

She sensed a slight hesitation in his touch as he stroked her shoulders, and placed kisses down the length of her body. Christine knew she would be his first. He had told her that he had been denied the joys of the flesh, when he had made know his intentions to her, deep in the bowels of the opera house.

She smiled gently at him as his head travelled back up to claim her lips once more. She parted her legs allowing him to settle between them. There were still too many layers of clothes parting them, she writhed in frustration, and he sensed its source. Everything that he did with her was instinctive and the culmination of his many dreams of this moment.

He left her for just an instant to shed the rest of his clothing; she mourned the loss of his warmth as she shyly removed her chemise to lay naked before him, body and soul. He rejoined her on the bed, still encased in the one final barrier that he had yet to remove…the white mask. He nodded at her almost imperceptibly as her hands crept up his face. She read the fear in his eyes as her hands touched the edges. As she slowly peeled it away from his face, he looked at her intently for her reaction. She knew what lie behind this mask; it could no longer affect her as he still seemed to fear.

Christine pulled it fully from his face, he almost sobbed as she continued to look at him with the same need as before. Her hand travelled down between their bodies as she wrapped a hand around him and urged him forward.

Erik moaned, as they watched each other for several moments until he regained control of his body. She stroked the rough cheek of his disfigurement, seeing only beauty. He hid his face in the curve of her neck unable to bear the compassion in her eyes a moment longer.

His frustration and loss began to take over him once more, as he began to move. She wrapped her legs around his waist, welcoming the assault on her body as it expunged some of the torment she had caused him. She felt the wetness of tears as he crushed his lips to hers, and she felt some deep urgency grow within her, as she struggled to reach some unknown point.

"Christine!" he cried out, gasping as he came, taking her over the precipice of desire, with him. She sobbed out his name as pleasure so intense, flooded her body and for a moment she feared that she would faint.

Their breathing slowed, and they were still joined at they locked gazes once more. Christine pushed her hands against his shoulders as sanity and guilt returned to her afresh. Erik read the shame in her eyes and smiled cruelly at her for a moment before releasing her and getting up from the bed. She watched as he began to pull on his discarded clothing.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Why my dear there must be a husband missing you by now. Surely you would not want him to find you so?" He eyed her disdainfully.

Christine put a hand to her mouth as the horror of what she had done reached her. She loved Raoul, she was his wife of, but six months, and she had betrayed him with the man whom had almost murdered him.

"No man can serve two masters Christine, no woman for that matter. Wouldn't it be delicious if my bastard were growing inside you right now? I wonder how the high and mighty viscomte would take that. I rather like the idea of my son being heir to all this,"

"Please don't" she sobbed into the pillow as he threw her dress at her. She rose slowly from the bed and she dressed herself in the remnants of her torn clothing as best possible.

Erik turned away at the sound of her distress before he weakened, and took her into his arms. He wanted her to suffer as he had, to know his anguish and pain. Christine felt like the courtesan that she knew she must surely look like, their passion of earlier left a bitter taste in her mouth as she glimpsed herself in one of the bedroom mirrors.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he sensed it, holding up a hand to silence her, before passing her the key to the house. "Leave me," he growled, sounding akin to a wounded animal.

Christine turned and fled the room. He heard the key turn in the lock, and walked into the other room. The door was flung wide; he went over to it, seeing only the darkness of the night. He wrapped his arms around himself as he realised with an angst-ridden cry…to hurt her was only to hurt himself.

As she mounted her horse and rode away she heard his cry echo into the night and closed her eyes against it, returning to the life she had chosen and the husband that adored her.

TBC

A/N Erik may seem a little harsh in this chapter, but what I am trying to convey is that I think he is capable of great tenderness as well as cruelty. He will seem harsh in some chapters, because I thought that it would remain more true to his character rather than he become all fluffy and bunny like over night.Thanks for reading and reviewing BTW.


	5. The rose has its thorns

Past the Point of no return

The rose has its thorns

Chapter 5

It was almost the beginning of the new day, as the servants stirred in readiness for their daily ritual of hard work, to keep the machine that was the De Chagny estate, in perfect working order. Madame Giry was the first to rise, overseeing the servants and their tasks for the day, before taking, as was her custom, a short walk around the perimeter of the house. As she stepped out into the freshness of the morning, she noted a lone rider, galloping towards the house at a breakneck pace. It was only when the horse came closer that she realised it was Christine.

"Madame," Cried Madame Giry in alarm, noting the torn dress, as Christine dismounted her horse. "Did you have a fall?"

Christine's mouth twisted. "You could say that," _A fall from grace maybe_, thought Christine wretchedly. "Do not worry; I am fine, see, no broken bones,"

"But Christine…"

"Please no fuss, and if you could, not a word of this to anyone? Especially not my husband. I am not sure he would approve of my riding out alone and at this hour," said Christine.

Madame Giry nodded disapprovingly, before Christine turned and walked away.

"Dear girl, I only hope you know what a dangerous game you are playing," said Madame Giry, quietly under her breath, not fooled for an instant. She glanced at the trees in the distance. Sure she saw a figure on a horse watching her, before he galloped away into the distance.

After having washed herself and changed into fresh bedclothes, Christine got back into her bed just as the first grey streaks of dawn, highlighted the sky. She was filled with self loathing and disgust for herself and her actions. Did Erik only have to call and she came running? It seemed it was so. Even now she yearned for his company and after his cruelty towards her. _But what had he not done that she had not begged for?_ her traitorous mind demanded. Erik stirred her blood and senses until she was sure that she would be consumed by them.

Raoul turned over in bed, unaware that she had been missing from his side for most of the night. He smiled sleepily at her, before his smile faded, noting a bruise forming at the base of her throat.

"You are hurt," he stated. Touching the mark on her neck.

Christine, flushed, frantically trying to invent a plausible excuse. She picked up the hand mirror that rested on her bedside table to glance at it. A vague memory of Erik's lips at her throat invaded her mind. "Oh-er it is nothing, I sustained it last night when I got up from my bed, I tripped and fell in the darkness,"

"Lottie, awkward as ever…do you remember the time.."

Christine cut him off with a yawn. Smiling back at him, she hid the annoyance she felt at his use of her pet name. She was a woman now, not some little lost lamb in need of an anchor. Little Lottie belonged in the past. She closed her eyes, and allowed Raoul to drape his arm about her as she tried to sleep. All the while her heart craved another pair of arms, which were strong and warm. A lone tear trickled down her cheek before sleep finally claimed her.

* * *

Erik woke in a tangle of bed sheets, the light flooding through the wooden shutters, like blinding fingers. As the events of the previous night came back to him, his body hardened in response to those memories. Now the floodgates of his passion had finally been breached, he found that he craved what had previously been unbeknownst to him. The little sleep he had managed to get, had been punctuated by tortured dreams. He had been back in his cage at the circus, but no longer a boy. Christine and her husband had been there also, laughing at him from the other side of the bars.

Erik raked his fingers through his hair in an attempt to clear his sleep addled mind. He winced at little at the soreness in his shoulder, rising naked from the bed; he walked over to the long mirror in the corner of the room and surveyed himself in its reflection. There were four score marks on his flesh that could have only been made by Christine's long fingernails. Erik smiled in satisfaction at the passion he had rung from her as they had come together in pure ecstasy. Now that he had known her in body, he found it was no longer enough. He wanted all of her, heart, body and soul.

Nothing, but her absolute surrender would satisfy him. His heart and his pride as a man demanded it. His fist clenched at the idea of her lying with her legal husband. Could the pasty faced viscomte with his soft eyes and gentle touch, bring her to tears and make her sob in his arms from their mating? He thought not, as he remembered her look of wonder as he'd possessed her. The feelings she had experienced were as new to her as they were to him.

He replaced his mask as was his habit. With it, he pulled on his long dressing gown, and walked into the living area of the house, to the small area that could be almost called a kitchen. He opened the pantry door and took his meagre meal of bread and cheese and sat down in his armchair. He had barely cut the bread, when there was a tentative knock at the door. He put the plate down on the table and took the long knife with him, hiding it behind his back as he looked through the shutters. He was undecided of what to do, when he saw the identity of his early morning caller. She knocked again and Erik sighed and opened the door.

"Madame Giry," he drawled. "What brings you here this hour of the day, do you not have a fine house to run?"

"Erik, I need to talk to you. I know about you and Christine," she replied,

This simple statement caught his attention as he widened the door to admit her entrance.

"I have no idea to what you are alluding," Erik replied.

Madame Giry looked around the room with a leisure she could not afford on her previous visit. Her glance rested on some unknown point and she stooped on the floor to retrieve something from it and walked over to him, her hand stretched out. Erik took the object from her, a smug smile on his features as he looked at the small black button that rested on his palm.

"A button from Christine's riding habit monsieur, how would you explain that?" she asked.

Erik's fingers closed around the button. "You know me Madame Giry; I am not in the habit of explaining myself to anyone," He told her haughtily.

"Please leave this place. Leave Christine, she is but a child," begged Madame Giry,

"She was far from a child in my arms last night," he growled back at her.

Madame Giry looked at him hardly. She knew he was a dangerous man, but she also knew that he would not harm her. "If not for Christine's sake then for your own…if the viscomte knew you were here, he would demand satisfaction and no one would win. No matter what the outcome. Christine cares for you both. Can you not be content with that?" she pleaded.

"Madame, I will not leave here, please do not come to me again," he looked at her levelly. "I find my patience wearing thin," He smiled as he registered the flicker of fear in her eyes.

"Have a care Erik, the viscomte is far more dangerous than he appears," She sighed before leaving him.

Erik quietly closed the door on his unwelcome visitor and sat back down. He pushed his plate away angrily. No longer hungry, he walked over to the piano and took his fountain pen and begun to play notes and write as he worked on his latest score.

* * *

"Christine, what is wrong?" Asked Raoul as he helped himself to a plate of sausages, his appetite in the country much more increased than during his sojourns in the city.

Christine smiled weakly at him. "I am just a little drained from such pleasant company last night, tis all,"

"That is a shame. I have to go into the city again today and thought you might like to accompany me,"

Christine's expression brightened at the idea of an outing. Any distraction was welcome, to get her away from the temptations that her new home now held for her. She felt Erik's touch upon her skin still. The strain of pretence was starting to take its toll. She was not built for deceit and intrigue; it was not in her nature. _Or so she had thought._

"Really?" she asked hopefully.

Raoul lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly, she almost drew back from his touch. _Why did his lips not feel strong and passionate and make her tremble? _She hated herself for her unfaithful thoughts towards a husband that had done nothing, but love her.

"Prepare yourself we depart within half an hour," He replied, as he got up to leave the breakfast table.

With her husband gone, she let out a deep breath, before returning to her room to attend her toilette. Charlotte was waiting for her to help with her hair. She was notably silent this morning, no doubt scolded by Madame Giry for the previous day's faux pas. Christine was not in a mood to converse, so it suited her very well.

Christine eyed herself critically in the mirror, while Charlotte picked up several discarded garments to be taken for laundry. Christine saw the maid pause at the bed, a smile on her face. She turned on her stool to look at what had caused it. The girl held a red rose in her hand, and Christine felt all the colour leave her face as she strode over to the bed and took it from her. It was a deep red rose with a black ribbon tied around it. She knew its author…Erik had always left her a rose when he had been pleased with her. Her cheeks burned with shame, for there could be no doubt as to manner in which she had pleased him the night before.

Charlotte noticed the blush on her cheeks and mistook it for pleasure. "It is tres romantique Madame," sighed Charlotte wistfully.

"Yes very," said Christine distantly as she brushed the rose against her cheek and breathed in its delicate scent.

"Christine!" Her husband called out.

Her eyes widened in alarm as she hastily concealed the rose under her pillow, ignoring the confused look of her maid. She turned to greet her husband and took his arm, as he led to their waiting carriage. He helped her into it and took his place at her side, banging the roof to signal to the driver that they were ready to be on their way.

* * *

Erik watched from the cover of the trees as the De Chagny carriage with its crest emblazoned on the side, made its way up the extensive drive. He had seen Christine enter the carriage followed by her fool of a husband, primped and preened like some peacock. His fingers had tightened on the reins in his hand, at the sight of his rival. His horse was saddled and ready for him. He pulled his black cloak over himself and drew the hood over his head, concealing most of his face. His finished score stored safely away in the saddlebag, he set off for Paris and his meeting with manager of another lesser opera house in the city.

His horse picked up speed and he soon passed the carriage, glimpsing Christine inside. She looked pale, her expression of one deep in thought. Something had alerted her to his presence and she glanced up at him, fear shadowing her face, before she pulled down the blind on the carriage window.

They were living in dangerous times, the Prussian army were not far from the boundaries of Paris, and Erik marvelled at the foolhardiness of the viscomte in taking Christine into such an unstable situation. The Germans, after their victory, were pushing forwards towards Paris and the capitol was in a state of defence. The roads to Paris were unnaturally busy with carts full of grain and livestock, being stock piled into the city. Several times he had had to slow the punishing pace he had set his horse, as he became swamped by herds of sheep.

He was ever conscious that the De Chagny carriage was not far behind him. When he reached Paris, it was well into the afternoon. The capital was as busy as its roads. He dismounted his horse and tethered it to a post, before leaving behind the more salubrious areas of the city. He had persuaded the manager to meet him in one of the lesser frequented establishments, in a bid to keep his anonymity. According to popular belief the opera ghost had perished in that fire all those months back and he preferred to keep it that way.

Several of Paris's less finest eyed him with intent to rob him, but he showed them the steel of his sword and they soon went off in search of other prey. He entered the tavern to find it almost deserted as he was ushered to a private room. Monsieur Bagot was waiting for him, his countenance uneasy as his fingers played with the edges of his starched collar.

Erik sat down at the table as the innkeeper slopped down a couple of glasses of red wine. He eyed him disdainfully, causing the man to quake at the look in his eyes.

"I fear this will be our last meeting in a while M-monsieur," stuttered the nervous looking man seated across from him. "I am leaving Paris as soon as possible. It is no longer safe here,"

Erik looked at him, his face in partial shadow, which served to increase the other man's agitation as it lent a sinister appearance to his features along with the mask he wore.

"A bargain is a bargain, and you agreed on the price of 100,000 francs for my latest work. I hold you to our agreement," said Erik unsheathing his sword and placing it on the table.

It had the desired effect on the other man, as he fumbled about in his waistcoat and handed him the bundle of banknotes.

"Daylight robbery is what it is. I can't even consider staging it in all the unrest," he grumbled as he took the leather-bound manuscript from Erik's hand.

"You will be more than compensated when it is," said Erik confidently. With a dramatic swish of his black cape he was gone.

He was out once more in the darkened back alleys of Paris, he had not gone more than a few steps when he realised he was being followed. A small smile turned the corners of his mouth as his hand reached for his sword.

The fat grubby innkeeper of earlier, clutched at his stomach as Erik removed his sword from his gut. The older man fell to the ground, his cudgel slipping from his thick fingers and clattering on to the cobbled paving. Erik could only guess he had seen the money change hands at his establishment and his greed had gotten the better of him.

It had been the first life he had taken since Piangi on the opera house stage, during his performance of Don Juan. He felt no regrets at the life he had just ended; sure he had not been the man's first intended victim. He continued on his way, his steps picking up speed as he heard the cries behind him…

"Murder,"

"It is the Germans, they are here to kill us," came another,

"We are all dead men," cried one more.

Soon the crowds had whipped up into a frenzy and poured out into the main streets. Erik worked his way through the gathering crowds, to his horse. He saw the De Chagny carriage pass him, caught up in the hysterical mob and surrounded by it. It was rocking precariously from the pressure on all sides. He froze as he heard a woman's scream, unmistakably that of Christine as the carriage overturned. He fought his way through the mass of people and pulled open a door. She and her husband lay inside unconscious.

With little thought for his own safety he leapt inside and dragged Christine out of the overturned vehicle. Erik noticed that the viscomte was stirring as he pulled Christine into his arms and carried her away to his horse. Once mounted he took the reins and set off in the other direction, the mob moving away in its tide.

He reached the only real home he had known, secure in the knowledge that it would be safer than here on the streets. He opened the door to the courtyard and put his horse in the abandoned stables, before lifting Christine from the horse and carrying her down to his former home beneath the opera populaire.

TBC


	6. Night Vows

**A/N. Thank you to the reviewer who pointed out where I had accidentally written Eric instead of Erik on three occasions in the last chapter, I went back and edited them. **

**And now to address another issue, I feel saddened that I have been defined by my user name rather than what I do as a writer. This person I know was only trying to give me constructive criticism and not personally attacking me. Unfortunately Spikes Bint is a user name I have used ever since I started writing almost two years ago. I cannot help it if it causes Spuffy to slip into your thoughts. It may seem that I am exclusively a Spuffy writer, but I have written for other fandoms too, including LoTR and AtS with many non Spuffy pairings. Only my website contains the full extent of my other pairings, granted mainly AtS and BtvS, but I don't think of myself as exclusively a Spuffy writer, I go wherever my muse takes me as I am sure a lot of you understand that. **

**If I am coming off bitchy please forgive me, I am maybe just not very good at explaining myself. I can only interpret Erik and the reasons behind how he is from what I have seen in the movie, I have just started reading the novel of the story online. Christine is portrayed as very innocent in the movie, but I think in future chapters, (I have actually written 12 so far) that I address her inner struggle with her deceit and the feelings she has for both men. Sorry for the long-windedness of my A/N! (Angela)**

**Just one or two warnings for this chapter, it touches on Non/cens issues and a touch of bondage, although it has been watered down for here. Just thought it would be the kindly thing to let you know before reading it.**

Past the point of no Return

Night Vows

Chapter 6

His vision swam in and out of focus sickeningly as he recalled the events that had occurred before his unconsciousness. He was still inside the carriage, _but oh God where was Christine?_ He was alone, and there was no trace of her, or the driver. The horses were no longer hitched to the carriage, presumably stolen. Raoul scrambled up and climbed out of the overturned vehicle. Night was setting in and the streets were almost deserted. He staggered into the road, grabbing at the first passer-by.

"My wife have you seen her?" he asked.

The man shook his head and walked on, thinking him either mad or drunk. He was at a loss of what to do. He searched the darkened streets for an officer of the law, but in vain. Raoul felt a cold trickle of sweat as it ran down the back of his neck. _What if she was kidnapped or worse?_ He was not so blind that he did not consider several scenarios almost too painful to bear. _She had been in his care and he had failed her, was it always his fate to be too late in saving her?_ He agonised.

He read the street sign to get his bearings, as he realised he was not far from a friend of hers, hope stirred within him. _Maybe she had gone there for shelter?_ But he could not believe that she would be any more willing to leave him unconscious and alone, as he would her. He came to the address he had visited once before and knocked loudly. There was no answer and he was just about to turn away when a window overhead opened.

"What is your business monsieur?"

"Meg…Meg Giry?" he called up.

"Non, but I can get her for you, who shall I say is calling?" asked the girl.

"The viscomte De Chagny,"

The girl burst out laughing. "And I am the empress of china, one moment sir,"

A moment later, a familiar blonde head peered over the windowsill. "Viscomte…where is Christine?" asked Meg in surprise.

"I do not know. I had hoped she had come here, there was an accident…"

"Wait one moment I will come down," said Meg urgently.

Raoul waited impatiently at the door until she opened it. He was still a little unsteady on his feet, and he leant against the railing before his legs gave way.

"You are hurt, come inside,"

"No, I must search for Christine. There was a mob…the carriage was overturned. When I came to, she was gone," Raoul explained.

A wave of darkness threatened to engulf him, Meg rushed forward to support him as best she could. "Madeleine quickly I need your help," she called out to her roommate.

Her friend joined her seconds later, helping to support the almost unconscious viscomte.

"So he really is a viscomte? "

"Oui, he is my best friend's husband. You remember me telling you about Christine Daae," Meg replied.

"The girl and the opera ghost?" asked Madeline.

Meg nodded. "Help me get him inside,"

"He is very handsome to be sure, but if Madame Chernot catches us with a man in our lodgings we will be turned out onto the street," said Madeline.

"Then we'd best get him inside and quickly, before someone sees us," Meg replied.

"Have to find Christine," Raoul muttered weakly.

"Sir you are no use to her like that, you are hurt. We will send for the doctor and the police," Said Meg firmly as she and her friend led him inside and closed the door.

* * *

Christine lay against something soft and warm, she snuggled into it deeper. She could feel his even breathing next to hers and she moved to wrap her arms around him. Her eyes widened in alarm as her arms would not move. She looked around her in panic as she realised both her hands were bound above her head, firmly to the bed's headboard. She would know this ornate bed anywhere. She had lain here once before, many long months ago. She turned her head to look at the man who rested beside her.

His eyes were closed and he wore no shirt. She could see that it was not her husband, but Erik. She pulled at her bindings, but they would not give. She glanced down at herself for the first time, noticing that she no longer wore her dress but a filmy nightgown. She blushed as she thought of Erik undressing her.

"Where is my husband?" demanded Christine, her voice coming out weak and fearful. She recalled the carriage accident, and then nothing more until this point of time.

"You have been asleep for some time my dear. Your husband is fine, I went back to see if he were still there. Though God knows why I would even care if he had met his end,"

"He must be looking for me," said Christine.

"He isn't, in fact I made some enquiries. He is with Madame Giry's daughter all safe and sound. It's amazing what knowledge a few measly francs will purchase," he said with a twist of his mouth. "Rather apt wouldn't you say? Us, here, back where we started from?"

"Why have you tied me up?"

"I can't risk you running the streets of Paris at this late hour Christine. I did it for your own safety. What would you do if I dared untie you?" he asked. He read the answer he was looking for in her defiant expression. "I thought so,"

She looked down at herself. "And these clothes?"

"I just relieved you of your corset, you were deathly pale and barely able to breathe with it on. I found you some garments when I searched around the opera house above. There were several rooms untouched by the fire,"

"Let me go," she pleaded.

"No, I find I prefer you in my bed,"

"Erik, please,"

"It is not safe. I can see I did the right thing in binding you. You always were too wilful Christine, there was a time you obeyed your master," he ended softly. Stroking her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that fell.

"I would rather take my chances on the streets of Paris," she spat at him bitterly.

Erik sat up in the bed, quickly straddling her. It was then that she discovered that he had worn nothing beneath the sheets. Even now her traitorous body responded to that knowledge. She yelped in surprise as his hands wrapped around her bound wrists.

"Do you have any idea what animals roam the streets?" he hissed in her ear. Christine looked up at him in fear. His hand left her wrist to trail along her collarbone. He noted the mark he had left on her throat the night before, and smiled in satisfaction. "And what they would do to this delicate young body?" He lowered his head to trail his lips where his fingers had just vacated.

"You are the animal," she replied, her face twisting in disgust for herself and the feelings he was arousing in her.

Erik took her expression for disgust of himself and it was if she had plunged a knife in his heart. White hot anger exploded inside him as his hand travelled roughly down to the hem of her nightgown and he forced her legs apart. He deafened himself to her pleas as he drove himself inside her. Both of them breathing heavily as he looked into her eyes. Neither of them moving mesmerised by the emotion in each others faces. She let out a little gasp as Erik began to move and her leg wrapped around him involuntarily. She was helplessly tied to this bed, but realised the power she still had over his body as her other leg joined its twin and she crushed him to her. Her back arched as she felt the heat of his tongue at her breasts.

She could feel the despair and need build inside her, almost wishing that she could crawl inside of him and they truly become one. It was in the desperate, passion fuelled moments of their coupling, that she realised he was already part of her. He was the passion in her voice, he was the love in heart, and he was the note in her song. Without him she was nothing. She looked into his eyes, wishing she could touch his beloved face as he lowered it to hers and caught her lips in a drugging kiss, both of them crying out their release, muffled by their lips as they came together.

He pulled away a little, to wipe at the sweat dampening his forehead and run his fingers through his dishevelled hair. He propped himself up on his elbows to study her. The blush of her cheeks and the glazed expression of pure joy and sadness mixed together, never failed to stir him. He could hold her like this and look at her forever, and he would have died happily having glimpsed heaven.

Erik felt disgust at himself for letting his anger get the better of him, although she had not been unwilling when he had taken her, he felt the stirrings of what he could only allot to guilt. He was no better than those he claimed to be dangerous, _maybe she would be safer on the streets, away from him_.

He slowly moved away from her, and she mourned the loss of his body next to hers. Christine was surprised as he stirred, only to untie her hands. He moved over to his side of the bed and lay back against the pillows, watching her.

"You are free to go,"

Christine rubbed at her wrists, more out of instinct than any pain.

"I know," she almost whispered.

Erik lay there regarding her with a strange expression on his face as she made no move to leave. She turned over to look at him, reaching out a hand to stroke his face.

"Well?" he asked.

She smiled softly at him. "There is nothing to be done this night. Raoul is in safe hands. I will stay with you,"

Erik looked at her in shock, hardly daring to hope. "When we return to the estate, will you..."

"Come to you? Yes," she sighed in surrender. "In the night I will be yours. I can no longer deny you Erik,"

Erik pulled her into his arms and held her to his side, breathing in the fragrance of her skin. "You are mine Christine, you will never be anyone else's," he growled fiercely against her cheek.

The protest that rose in her throat, died as she admitted the truth of his curtly spoken words. The last thing that she remembered before sleep took her was the gentle touch of his fingers as they stroked her hair.

* * *

"Christine,"

A pair of lips made its way down her neck.

"Mmmmm," she sighed softly.

"It is almost noon," Erik breathed against her skin.

Christine's eyes widened in alarm. She knew the source of her exhaustion, she and Erik had spent most of the night engaged in lovemaking. Her sanity slowly started to take over her again.

"I must go," she told him urgently, rising from the bed.

He looked at her sadly, knowing that her daylight hours belonged to another, but not too proud to take whatever crumb she offered him from her table. He nodded, also leaving the bed, to remove her clothes of the day before from a heavy wooden trunk.

"Come, I will take you to Meg's residence,"

Christine could not stop her eyes from straying to the beautiful movements of his lithe form as he dressed. Once or twice he caught her watching him, smiling to himself as he saw her blush and quickly turn away.

She buttoned up the high collar on her dress, and glanced at him. "What if you are seen?"

He chuckled at her heartily; she was taken aback at the sound that was almost alien to him. "I can take care of myself well enough, but thank you for the concern my dear,"

"Who said I cared?" she asked.

Erik strode over to her, and took her arms roughly. He studied her expression. "You care. I feel it in your lips, your hands, when they touch me and I read it in your eyes, even now," he said, kissing her hard upon the mouth before releasing her. He put on his cloak and pulled the hood over his head to obscure his features. Christine glanced at the bedside table to see he had forgotten his mask in his haste to leave. She picked it up and followed him.

Erik pulled on the horses' reins, and dismounted, before helping Christine to the ground. He let his hands slide down her body as he released her, causing her to blush. She glanced up at her friend's window nervously, afraid they were being watched.

He caught her chin and lifted her face up towards him. "I could kiss you now in this street and you would not fight me," he drawled confidently. He sighed seeing the distress in her face. "But I will not, and keep to our dateless bargain, do not forget in the night you are mine. I will watch to see if you leave today, if so I will follow, but if you decide to stay, meet me outside the door as soon as all are asleep,"

"But my husband…"

"You are only his in the waking hours,"

"I think Raoul might have a couple of duelling pistols that would disagree with you, but I will be there tonight, I promise,"

The phantom mounted his horse and galloped off in the direction they had just followed. Christine almost had her hand to the door knocker, when it was wrenched open and Meg ushered her inside the hallway.

"Christine, where have you been?" asked Meg urgently. "Your husband has been out of his mind with worry all night,"

Christine blushed shamefully at her selfishness. "I was safe, an old friend rescued me, and we were unable to get word as I did not know what had happened to Raoul. By the time I knew he was safe, it was too late to do anything and the person would not hear of me leaving alone, so I was forced to stay there,"

"Do I know this old friend? Was it someone from the Opera house?" asked Meg.

"Y-yes it was…"

"Christine!" cried her husband from the top of the stairs.

Christine closed her eyes in relief as her husbands arrival, halted any further explanations on her absence to Meg. She was encircled in her husband's arms so tightly, she could scarce breathe.

"My love, I thought you gone forever," he wept into her shoulder.

Christine looked at Meg over her husband's shoulder. She could tell that her friend was far from convinced by her tale, but she knew she would say nothing of it to him.

"It seems that an old friend of ours from the opera house, Collette, was taking care of her. There was no man in the house to deliver her back to you, so she had to stay there overnight,"

"I am just glad you are safe, but how did you know where to find me?" asked Raoul.

"We made some enquiries as soon as it was light. It took a while, but here I am safe and well. But look at you," she cried noting the ugly purple bruise on his forehead.

"It is nothing,"

"Nothing!" Exclaimed Meg. "The doctor says he has concussion and must rest for a couple of days and he says it is nothing,"

"Yes darling we must get you back to bed," said Christine as she led her husband upstairs.

Meg went to close the front door properly, glancing out into the square as she did so. She noted a solitary figure perched high on a black stallion. His features were unrecognisable due to his hood; he touched a hand to his head in salute before riding away. There was something troublingly familiar about him, from what she could make out. A thought came to her, but she dismissed it, _the phantom of the opera would be the last person her friend would turn to_, she thought, angry at herself for even thinking it.

TBC


	7. Remembering the Music

Remembering the Music

Chapter 7

Alone in his solitude once more, Erik lay against the sheets of his bed, sheets that smelt of Christine, floral, yet tinged with something much more deep-seated which intoxicated his senses. He breathed in the pillow that lay at his side. His body was already aching for her and her imminent return. He wanted nothing more than to steal her away to some far distant land where her husband would never find them. Every time he was with her, it became that little bit harder to let her go. It had been within her arms that she had made him a man. Until now he had only dreamt of the sensuality that lay behind his music. Now that he had tasted it in the flesh, Christine was like a drug to him. He knew he would never tire of hearing her cries of passion as he played her body like a musical composition that ended in a wild climax, leaving them both exhausted in its wake.

He arose from the bed and walked over to his pipe organ in frustrated desire, if he could not sate one need, he would feed another, his music. Apart from a layer of dust and greasy dirt from the fire of several months ago, it was relatively untouched. His fame had lived past the demise of the opera house, making it too dangerous a venture for anyone to come here in the fear he was still hiding somewhere in the shadows. He tore a strip from one of the velvet hangings and wiped at the keys reverently. Erik flexed his fingers as they hovered above the keys, clearing his mind as he begun to play. The music came to him like her whispered cries in his arms in the early hours of that same day. He found an inkwell and a pen and begun to scrawl down the music as it invaded his mind.

Several hours later he picked up the sheets of paper, filled with notes, meaningless to the untrained eye, but to him his soul bared in the written word. He sat back and played the piece he had just completed. It rang through the caverns of the catacombs with a ghostly resonance of denied love and passion. He stopped unable to go on; too tired and emotional from the previous night. He went back to his bed and tried to rest. He took her discarded nightgown and laid it out on the bed next to him. He would sleep away the daylight hours and if the fates were kind, he would dream of her.

* * *

Raoul slept, and she lay at his side, holding him, as if in some small way, give reparation for her infidelities and the ensuing guilt, which she found to be lessening with each passing day, but it was always there, overshadowing any happiness she might have felt at her secret union with her one time teacher. _How could something that felt so good, be wicked and sinful? Was it possible to be in love two men at the same time?_ Christine sighed; she needed advice from someone who would comprehend these conflicted emotions. She dearly wished she were back at the estate. Madame Giry would surely understand. She had been the closest thing to a mother that she had known. But they would not leave before tomorrow, the carriage had to be repaired and fresh horses attained. Raoul was in no fit state to travel, at least in that she had been a good wife and insisted he take it easy.

She had lain down with him in the bed, needing rest herself. Little sleep had been achieved the night before. Raoul stirred and turned in the bed and buried his head into her shoulder. "I love you," he replied as he drifted off to sleep.

"And I you," she sighed. That was the problem.

If she had no feelings for her husband, she would have given into the wildness of her nature and begged Erik to take her away from her ivory tower, but she had sense enough to know that this was not some fairy tale, where the prince rescued her from the beast and they all lived happily ever after. He had done that, only for her to discover that the beast was the one who stirred her like no other and whom she truly craved. She cursed her foolish dreams that she had spun around a childhood memory which had led them all to this purgatory. Now all had to live with her faithlessness, maybe she was as dark and sinful as Erik had hinted at. Maybe she had been wearing a mask all her life…just like her lover, but on the inside for none to see, but him. Christine closed her eyes determined to think on Erik no longer. It was the day, and this time belonged to her husband, the man that had almost died to save her, from the very thing she had turned to.

When she awoke, long shadows cast over the interior of the room as the daylight slowly gave way to the night. Raoul turned over in the bed and, she bent her head to gently kiss him. He opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"Hello, you are not leaving me I hope?"

Christine blushed and looked away. "No, I was just going to talk to Meg. We have a lot of catching up to do. How is your head?"

Raoul winced. "It still pains me a little,"

Christine sat up in bed and with her back to him; she took the wine decanter from the table and poured him a glass. "Here maybe this will help restore your spirits,"

"Thank you," he took it from her and drank thirstily.

Christine looked away, her guilt too much to bear as she replaced the bottle of laudanum next to the decanter. _It had been only a few drops_, she reasoned with herself. She wondered if some of the Phantom's black soul had penetrated her own. In the days since her return she had become a deceiver of the lowest order, now resorting to drugging her husband to protect him from the truth _or was it to hide her sin?_ Either way she knew it was morally wrong, but she has long since past the point of no return. The final threshold had been truly crossed the moment she had let the phantom once again into her life and now her bed.

She lay by his side until she knew he was fast asleep. _The rest would only do him good and help him to heal for their journey home_ she reasoned, feeling much better for having done so. She stroked Raoul's face and kissed him on the lips before leaving the bed and getting dressed. She quietly left the room in search of her friend.

Meg was sitting in the modest living room of her rented accommodation. Her friend Madeline eyed her speculatively while mending a shirt that she had spread across her lap.

Meg smiled at her friend in greeting. "I had thought you meant to sleep the whole day away,"

Christine yawned. "I almost did, it was an eventful day yesterday. Any word on the carriage being ready for tomorrow?"

Meg studied her friend's face before answering her, but seeing nothing in her expression to cause concern, she replied. "Yes, I went and made enquiries earlier. There is no reason why you cannot leave on the morn, although I would keep you here longer for selfish reasons. I missed you Christine, you are the closest thing to a sister I have,"

"I missed you too Meg," Christine smiled, as an idea came to her. "How would you like to return with us for a visit to the estate? Raoul will not object,"

"I don't know," said Meg "Although I would love to,"

"And I would love to have you there and you could see your mother. It must have been some months since you last saw her?"

"Go Meg. There is nothing to do here. All rehearsals have been suspended for the time being," encouraged Madeline.

"Very well, if your husband is agreeable to the idea then I accept," grinned Meg, embracing, Christine. "Come let me find you some supper, you must be starved,"

* * *

The clock in the church tower across the square struck its twelfth strike. It was midnight, Madeline and Meg had retired for the night some time ago, but Christine had not dared to stir before now, wanting to make sure the whole household slept before she made her move. She got up from the chair in which she had been sitting for the last hour. Only the glow from the fire in the hearth gave any light to the darkened room. Raoul had stirred and muttered several times in his sleep. She had been afraid he would wake and then she would have to stay. Erik would not understand or care; sure that he would be bold enough to demand her presence as strongly as the rights of a husband. She knew he had no fear of Raoul and that frightened her, for her husband was an expert swordsman and very able with a pistol.

She walked over to the window and looked out; he was there as he promised he would be. She felt her heart leap within her breast as the blood raced through her veins with pure excitement.

"Christine?"

She froze.

"Raoul?"

She turned back to her husband, the former exhilaration dampened, to be replaced with aching disappointment. On closer inspection, he still appeared to be sleeping, dreaming of her maybe. She let out the breath she had been holding and quickly left the room and taking her cloak from the closet in the hall, she crept out, like a thief into the night, not a taker of goods, but of time.

* * *

Erik had seen her at the window, before she had disappeared from sight. He had waited for ten long minutes, starting to fear that she would not or could not come to him. But finally he had seen her slip out of the front door and come running across the cobbled pavements towards him. He spurred his horse forward and extended an arm as he helped her onto the back of his horse. With her arms encircling him, he galloped off into the night.

Christine had remained silent while she waited for him to stable his horse. He came back to her and took her hand and led her, to her surprise, inside the opera house and not to his old quarters. He must have had this in mind before he had set out to collect her as there was a branch candlestick already lit. Apart from the one shining light, the only other available illumination was leant by the moonlight which flooded through windows that were no longer paned, destroyed in the heat of the fire.

"Why are we here?" she asked.

"Don't you ever miss it?" he asked, not answering her question.

"Miss what?"

"The thrills of being on the stage, having a room full of people love and adore you as you sing your heart out, and the applause?" He asked.

"N-no," she lied.

He put a finger under her chin to study her face in the candlelight. "Christine, the music never leaves you. I know…that night when you left me, I vowed never to write another note, but I found I could not keep that vow," he sighed, taking her hand and resting it on his chest. She felt the steady beat of his heart. "Denying what lies in here is to deny that you live and breathe,"

He continued to lead her into the main hall of the theatre. She started as several nesting pigeons took flight, glancing up she saw the moon through a large hole in the roof. The main chandelier filled the orchestra pit and part of the stage. She had not seen this place since her last fated performance of the phantoms opera.

Erik put down the candelabrum and came to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her and she closed her eyes remembering their song, filled with the promise of passion and desire. Her breathing quickened in his embrace, it seemed he only had to touch her and she burned for him.

He trailed kisses down her throat, before resting at her ear, just holding her, as if the outside world had ended and they were the only two people in existence.

"Sing, for me," he whispered against her skin.

Her eyes widened, she had not been expecting his affective request. She felt tears spring to her eyes. All the time she had been married to Raoul, he had not once asked to hear her voice. It had at times seemed that he was a little ashamed of her previous stage career. It was all well and good to patronise the arts for someone in his position, as long as you weren't seen to partake of them as she had.

"I-I don't know if I still can," she sighed.

He pulled her up against him hard. "What has that joyless boy done to you?" he demanded. "No wonder you came to me so quickly," he softened his tone as he turned her to face him.

"I will sing..."

He smiled down at her. "Thank you for indulging your master,"

She shivered at the use of his word. It was too close to the truth for her. She took a deep breath as she begun to sing one of the arias from his Don Juan Opera. It had meant to be the final song of his interrupted piece…her voice a little weak at first from lack of use soon grew in confidence as she saw the look of pleasure on his face at the sound of her singing. By the time the last note rang out, she was breathing heavily as she looked at Erik, seeing the passion for her glowing in his gaze.

Their need for one another, consumed them both. She watched impatiently as he removed his cloak and laid it on the floor, his meaning not lost on her. To take the walk to his bed would be too long for both of them. He kissed her and lowered her to the floor, covering her body with his own as his hands roamed underneath her skirts. He divested her of her undergarments with one swift movement, kissing her deeply as he freed himself from his pants and she opened herself to him. She gasped into his mouth as they were once again joined. Christine sighed against his hair as his lips travelled lower, he had still not moved and it was driving her insane. He lifted his head to look at her, seeing the torture in her eyes and smiling at it, before rewarding her.

Their coupling grew in intensity, as she urged him on, gripping him tightly and wrapping a leg around him. The coldness of the floor was beginning to seep into her, but she paid it no heed, only able to register how she felt when coupled to him. He lifted himself a little to take her hands and lace his fingers through hers as they rocked together, only their sighs and moans punctuating the silence of the cavernous theatre…

* * *

Meg had seen Christine leave the house and not alone. She had to know…quickly dressing in a boys outfit for her own safely, she hid her hair underneath a hat. To the casual onlooker she looked no more than a young street urchin. The horse and its riders had been long gone. By the time she had entered the square it was deserted. Not sure what to do next she almost turned back, before her suspicions of earlier came back to her as she ran off in the direction of her old residence, the opera populaire.

She ran through the streets barely pausing, feeling safer with her hand curled around a small knife that she carried in her pocket. There was hardly a soul about, fear of invasion from the Prussian army; just a few miles away, had called a halt to a lot of the bawdy revelling that usually occurred.

Having reached her goal, she stopped by the darkened café on the corner. The shadows of its courtyard lent her some refuge. As she looked at the opera house, her heart leapt in her throat. It took on an eerie appearance with its blackened walls and missing windows. She took a breath to steady her nerves and ran up the steps. The door that used to be tightly secured at night, hung open. One of its panels was hanging at an angle on a broken hinge. She crawled in through the gap, not wanting to alert anyone to her presence.

The silence that greeted her, begun to make her feel foolish for her over active imagination, she sighed inwardly at her now seemingly foolish instinct. _Of course Christine would not be here, among the decay and dark_. Angry at herself she turned on her heel, stopping as she heard it…a low moan. Her senses heightened as she listened again, this time the sound was distinctly feminine. She crept up the stairs and paused at the main doors to the auditorium. There was a faint glow coming from within, she pulled back the door just a crack in the curiosity that spurred her on to discover the truth. She could not help the gasp that fell from her lips as she beheld the scene before her… Christine was on the floor, her legs wrapped around a faceless lover, which she could not quite comprehend in the dark. They were obviously en flagrante delecte

Suddenly as if sensing they were no longer alone, the man raised his head to look at her. All the blood left her face as she saw the white glow of a mask, as the moonlight illuminated his face.

"Christine," he breathed, leaving Meg in no doubt who lie beneath him. He lowered his head to reclaim Christine's lips. With legs that finally decided to work, Meg fled the opera house and ran until she could run no more collapsing for want of breath at her door.

TBC


	8. Forgiveness for sin

Past the Point of no Return

Chapter 8

He tied the ribbon on her cloak and smoothed the riotous tumble of curls that had long since escaped from its pins. Erik looked down at her tenderly and sighed. The intensity of his gaze drew her in as they stared at each other in silence for several moments, their looks between them, conveying more than their words ever could.

"You are so beautiful,"

"So are you," she smiled back, no hint of guile or mockery in her voice. He looked away and she touched his cheek. "You don't believe me?"

Erik tore away the mask from his face and looked back at her. "How can you look at this deformation and say it is handsome?"

"It never was about your outward appearance. You were my angel of music; you were beautiful to me before I had ever seen you,"

"But beauty is something that the outside world demands, something which I have coveted almost to the point of madness. It is what keeps me a prisoner, alone, in the dark,"

She took his hand in hers. "Not alone anymore," Christine placed a kiss on his open palm, before closing his fingers over it.

"Do you not realise that the times I am with you are sometimes the loneliest moments of all…knowing that you are only mine for a little while,"

"It is the way it has to be,"

"Because you chose him?" he replied bitterly.

"Don't you think I live with that knowledge everyday?" she cried.

His hands cupped her face roughly. "Damn you and your inconstant heart,"

She looked at him with unflinching compassion, welcoming the pain of his harsh fingers as they bit into her skin. Erik struggled with his emotions as they coursed through him. So long had he lived with scorn and contempt that her tenderness was almost his undoing. Her tears were something that he had always hated to see, even more so when he was their cause.

He took a breath, "There is something I have to tell you,"

"What is it?" she asked.

"Tonight…we were followed,"

"What? Who?" she asked in panic.

"Madame Giry's daughter. Let's just say she bore witness to our union,"

"Oh, no," The fear clutched at her heart and shameful colour tinged her cheeks.

"Your friend Meg…it seems that curiosity has killed the cat," he replied.

Christine looked at him "You would not hurt her?"

He pulled back, as if she had slapped him, wounded by her assumption. "I would never harm anything of Madame Giry's. If it were not for her I would have been strung up by a mob,"

"I must return home and speak to her at once," replied Christine, her mind already on other things.

"I thought you would say that, come I will return you to your viscomte," His face twisted as he uttered the last word bitterly.

Erik took her hand and picked up the candlestick and led her from the theatre, leaving it shrouded once more in darkness.

Both of them mounted on the horse, and he set off at a steady pace. The hooves of the horse struck the pavement like the peals of a bell ringing out her doom. _Would Meg tell her husband?_ She knew she was being selfish, _but wasn't that exactly what she had been ever since her return?_ She lay back into Erik's arms drawing warmth and comfort from his strong form. As they neared the end of their journey she sighed softly, turning her head to look up at him.

Even now, with the fear that her secret was out and maybe at this very moment her husband was being informed of her whereabouts, she could not help but feel desolate at their parting. Although she had promised him that the night belonged to them, they were both realistic to know that circumstances and other people would not always make it possible for them to meet.

"Do you return home tomorrow?" he asked.

"Yes, at first light. We are told that if we do not soon leave, then we will be caught up in the conflict,"

"I will be with you, watching over you on your journey home,"

She looked up at him. "You always are with me, in my mind, in my heart. Be careful Erik,"

Erik pulled on the reins as they neared the square. "Your concern is moving, but I am able to take care of myself,"

"Fine, may you meet a whole regiment of soldiers in ill humour," she snapped.

She felt his warm breath on her neck as he lowered his head to kiss it. She closed her eyes as his lips blazed at trail along her skin.

"Forgive me, Christine,"

At that moment she could have forgive him anything at the sensations his lips were arousing in her. She knew him to be dangerous, but she also knew he would rather perish, than harm her. It was partly the danger that stirred her as she lay in his arms and his bed. He had taken her to places she could have only dreamt of before now. The night he had dragged her down to his home had only been his desire to know the happiness of her love. If Raoul had not followed her, Erik would have made her his that very night, and then maybe they both would have been spared the future they had before them, of lies and betrayal. But what kind of half life could they have lived in the darkness?

"It is I who need forgiveness; I could not bear to see you hurt,"

"I know. I would be a dead man even now, if you had not stayed your husband's hand during our fight in the cemetery. Maybe that would be better for all of us,"

"Please don't say that, I cannot imagine a world that does not have you in it. I lost one man whom I loved, my father. Do not leave me with another to grieve for all my life. We are playing with fire each time we meet and if there were a next time that your paths should cross, I feel no amount of tears on my part would prevent him if he knew of us,"

"I look forward to it, Raoul De Chagny does not frighten me," he replied confidently.

"To say you embrace it is to wish for death. Promise me you won't seek a confrontation," she asked urgently.

Erik looked down at her, his heart softened a little at the distress in her face and voice.

He nodded almost imperceptibly. "I have no fear of death, what horrors can it hold what I have not already experienced? But I promise," _It did not mean he would not embrace the fight when it eventually came to his door. _Christine was a woman in body and mind, but still a child in innocence of the harsh realities of this life.

"There is something you should know…I have invited Meg to stay at my home for a few weeks, that is if she still wishes to after all that has occurred,"

Erik gave her a hard look, his hands around her waist tightening. "You wouldn't have invited her in an attempt to avoid me would you?"

"Of course not…I will still come to you, but you may understand that it will be more complicated with her knowing of us,"

Erik felt black anger envelope his heart. He slipped off the back of his horse before helping Christine from it and she looked up at him, seeing the anger glitter in his eyes.

"What have I done now?" she asked.

Erik shook his head before looking back at her. "Tonight when your friend found us, I gave her a performance she would not forget. When I was with you, inside you. I heard her and I looked her straight in the eyes. She is in no doubt who your moonlight lover is," He smiled down at her haughtily.

"Why must you do that?" she asked.

"Do what my love?" he replied.

"Ruin what we have, lower it to its sin?"

"Ah, but it is sin, wicked, delicious and sensuous in its making. That is why you love it so much and crave it more each time we touch. Tell me that I am not in your thoughts and mind, that every touch your husband bestows on you brings you to thoughts of us and what we share. Tell me Christine have you lain with him since your return?"

Christine looked at him then looked away. "No, but I must. He will suspect and I don't wish to cause him pain,"

"That is already unavoidable my sweet. Now be gone before you are missed," he kissed her hardly upon the lips, watching her progress as she made her way to her friend's home, before turning and riding back to the opera populaire in readiness for his journey home.

* * *

Christine crept into the house, unsure that she would be alone or met by a welcoming committee. She breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the house was sheathed in total darkness. She replaced her cloak in the closet and ventured to the lounge to warm her hands by the dying fire which glowed in the grate.

"Home so soon?" asked a voice.

Christine spun around in shock at the unexpected sound. Meg was sitting in an armchair, cradling a glass of wine.

"Oh Meg,"

"Christine what are you doing? That you would throw away the love of the man resting in the other room for a known murderer, are you mad?"

Christine ran to her friend's side and got on her knees, to look up at her in despair. "I know what he is, but I need him Meg. Can you not understand? He fires my blood and until I am by his side I am only half alive,"

Meg looked down at her. "I only see the wantonness of a child who cares not whom is hurt in her play,"

"Please Meg I need to tell someone. I feel I shall burst with what is running around inside of me,"

"I will listen with as an impartial mind as possible," sighed Meg

Christine began to pour out the events of the last few days, skimming over the more intimate moments of her time spent with Erik as she finished her tale, the animation in her face illuminated it as if lit from the inside. It did not go unnoticed by her wary listener and she frowned at Meg's angry expression. "You love Raoul," she uttered in a flash of insight. "The very day you saw him at the opera populaire you commented on how handsome you thought him, I just didn't see it until now,"

Meg got up from her chair and paced the room restlessly.

"Don't be so foolish, It would be folly indeed to love a man that does not even know you exist," said Meg evasively. "I have not the good fortune that you have, of being loved and adored by any man that meets you,"

"You do not know Erik, as I do. He was my teacher, the voice in the night that soothed me when I ached with grief for my father. You see only the monster, I see the man,"

"Christine have a care. I suspect that your angel will soon grow weary of sharing you with another and then God help us all,"

"Meg I am sorry that you had to find out that way, but you are wrong. What I need to know is…"

"Will I tell," Meg finished for her. "I will keep your secret, but I will not cover for anything else. Does mother know?"

Christine nodded. "Nothing ever did get past your mama. I don't suppose it has now," she sighed.

"The hour is late, if must be three of the clock at least and we have a journey ahead of us," smiled Meg as she put down her half finished glass of wine and Christine rose to her feet.

"You will still come?" asked Christine excitedly.

"Of course," Meg replied as the two women embraced.

Christine and Meg parted moments later to their separate beds, she to her husband and Meg to the bed she had to share with Madeline during her friend's stay at her meagre lodgings.

* * *

The early morning sun rose in the sky, bringing hope and warmth with the dawn of the new day. The carriage rolled up outside Meg's lodgings, its grandeur looking out of place in this modest street. After Meg had said goodbye to her friend they set off for the De Chagny estate. Christine peered out of the window for any sign of Erik. She sighed in disappointment and relief that there was no trace of him. Maybe he had decided against risking the journey in daylight.

Raoul placed a kiss on her cheek and pulled her close to him. "Not long until we are home once more my love,"

She smiled up at him as she felt icy fingers contract at her heart. Why _did that word suddenly no longer bring her the comfort it used to?_ She glanced across at Meg, her friend's expression unreadable.

Most of the journey was taken in comfortable silence. Meg soon fell asleep from the gentle rocking of the carriage and Raoul focused his attention on his wife. He pulled her closer to him and lowered his head to catch her lips in his before moving away to look at her, his desire evident in his gaze.

His need lit no spark in her nor caused a rush of blood in her veins that she felt when Erik looked at her in that way. His caresses were nothing beyond pleasant and she hated herself for it. She closed her eyes and dreamed of another's touch and returned his kisses ardently, to his surprise. He pulled back to study her face, noting the excited blush to her cheeks.

"You have been missing me too,"

She nodded and averted her eyes. She knew her duty as a wife would soon be called upon and that was something that she would have to deal with when the time came. It hurt far more to think she would be betraying Erik with the one person whom she was legally joined. Her attention was averted as a black clad rider overtook the carriage and continued along the road.

Raoul frowned. "I think we may have been followed, I remember such a rider flanking us on our way into the city,"

"You were asleep for most the journey, it must be your mind playing tricks with you," she smiled at him, causing him to forget his concerns with the sweetness of her expression.

Erik raced past the carriage, glancing at the occupants inside. Meg was fast asleep, but what he saw inside cut into him deeply. It was not the first time he had been witness to their kisses. He remembered their spoken vows on the roof of the opera house, in the softly falling snow, as if it were yesterday. His hands gripped the reigns tighter as he spurred his horse on, no longer able to bear the happy tableau before his eyes.

His mind wandered back to the past…the few weeks he had spent hiding among the scum of Paris after the opera house had burned. He had been lost without Christine, knowing her to be away on her wedding tour he had briefly turned to drink to help him through those days which had been the darkest he had ever known. His former life as a sideshow freak had been preferable to the gut wrenching agony he had suffered in her absence. So he had buried himself away in the lowest streets of the city, renting an abode not fit for the rats to sleep in. It had only been the image of her sweet face, which had kept him sane in all that time as well as the memory of her voice in his head.

It had been one night, when he had been unable to stay away any longer, that he had ventured out of the city to find himself at the borders of the De Chagny estate. The hour had been late and he had ridden up to the great house to find it shut up for the duration of the family's continuing absence. It had been on the ride back up the long driveway that he had had to ride into the trees for cover as a carriage had approached.

As he had stood in the trees, concealed by the night and their shade, he had seen Madame Giry's outline inside, highlighted by the carriage lamps that burned. His horse had wandered into the wood and he had gone in search of it, to find it grazing at a grassy patch near the shell of a long forgotten house. Erik had ventured inside the old building and had looked it over, when the idea of inhabiting it came to him. It was isolated with little chance of discovery. It was obvious that no one had been here in a very long time. He had spent so many years watching over Christine, and the idea of doing so again had given him a little joy in his hellish existence.

So here he was on the road to the De Chagny estate riding for all his life to his home on a stolen corner of his lover's husband land. He had just ridden into the cover of the trees when he heard the distant rumble of their carriage as it entered the grounds and begun its journey down the long driveway. Erik turned away and led his horse to the small outhouse behind his home before entering his house and closing the door. He walked into the living room, inspecting it, in case of unwanted visitors in his time away.

Satisfying himself that all was well, he felt the tiredness seep into his bones as he shrugged off his cloak and left his mask on the chair. He walked into his bedroom and fell onto the bed in exhaustion, the sweet image of Christine's face in his mind as he drifted off.

* * *

When he awoke, it was to night. His long years below the opera house had given him an aptitude to find his way around in the dark that rivalled any feline. He got up from the bed and walked into the living room to light a fire to ward off the night chills. As he turned away from it, it was then that a pair of arms encircled him.

"I thought you were going to sleep the night away," she sighed.

He smiled, aware of her presence the moment he had entered the room, but he had decided to let her play her little games with him.

"Christine," he answered her, before taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply.

She broke the kiss and looked at him, the soft glow of the fire giving his face a less harsh appearance.

"We don't have long. I managed to slip away for a few moments before dinner. My husband is taking a bath and will be so occupied for the next hour. There will not be another opportunity for us to meet this night,"

"And Meg?" he asked.

"She is with her mother,"

"We had better not keep the viscomte waiting for his bride then,"

She heard the twist in his voice, as he said it. She could not blame him for his resentment or the way Erik's hand strayed roughly under her skirts once he had led her over to the stool of his piano. He sat on the cushioned seat as she stood before him, watching her look of ecstasy as his able fingers dipped beneath the hemline of her undergarments.

She removed the rest of her garments, naked before him, his eyes smoky with desire as he looked at her. She fumbled with the fastenings to his clothing in frustrated desire.

"Make love to me Christine," he urged

Her eyes widened at his request, before he grasped at one of her thighs, bringing it to rest on the space on the one of the sides of the stool. She gripped the edge of the piano behind him as he helped to lift her up until she was straddling him either side of the seat.

Later, they pulled apart, in a tangle of dampened limbs. He kissed her again and lifted her from him to put her on the floor on shaky legs. He held on to her, to stop her from falling. He returned his crumpled clothing to some semblance of order as he helped her to put back her undergarments.

He stood back and looked at her. "There, you look like a woman who has thoroughly been…"

She winced. "Don't say it, Erik. Please don't spoil things," she pleaded.

He smoothed a strand of damp hair from her cheek. "You think I don't know why you came here at this hour?" At her silence he continued. "You came here because you need to feel better about what you are to do tonight. It breaks my heart to know that you will be going from my arms to his Christine, but I thank you for giving yourself to me in self-punishment of your weak heart and I bid you goodnight,"

Christine felt the tears well up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead she looked at him before she held her head up and walked towards the door, pausing before opening it.

"I wish you had never returned,"

He strode towards her closing the distance between them. "You lie so beautifully my dear. It was not me who ruined tonight it was you, for I was only going to say that you looked like a woman whom has been thoroughly loved. Now good day to you, I find I grow weary of your company," he replied curtly before closing the door on her.

TBC


	9. Never Leave Me

Chapter 9

Never leave me

Christine dressed for dinner with a heavy heart. She sucked in her breath as Charlotte laced up her corset. Each pull of the strings binding her tighter than before. _Not unlike her liaison with Erik_, she mused. Her body still ached from his possession, almost as if he had left his imprint on her flesh to remind her of whom she truly belonged to.

She locked gazes with Charlotte in the mirror, her expression one of such abject anguish that her maid gasped at the suffering she saw on her mistress's face. "Madame you are well?" asked Charlotte.

Christine sighed. It would be so easy to hide behind an imaginary illness to avoid her duties as a wife, but she felt she owed Raoul that much and would go like the sacrificial lamb to his bed if needs be and it protected her secret. She noted the pallor of her skin along with darkened shadows that rested beneath her eyes. The roses from her cheeks had almost faded. Being with Erik were the happiest, but sometimes the most torturousmoments she had ever experienced in her young life. At times, it cut as deep as the death of her dear departed father, but still she was drawn to him as helplessly as a moth to the flame, knowing it could only bring pain, but attracted to it none the less.

"I am well Charlotte. We must hurry or I will be scolded for holding up dinner and the cook will curse my name,"

"Mais non, Madame that could never happen. They all say what an angel you are and that the master has been fortunate in his choice of wife," Charlotte finished on a blush, worried she had overstepped her bounds again.

Christine smiled at her. "Do not fret," she reassured her. "Madame Giry cannot have ears in all places. I will not scold you for your forthright tongue,"

Charlotte smoothed the last of Christine's dark curls into order and stood back to admire her work. "There Madame, you look beautiful,"

"Thank you. It is only your able hands that make it so,"

Christine picked up her fan and was about to make her way to the dining room when they were interrupted by a knock on the chamber door.

"Enter,"

Charlotte flushed guiltily at the sight of Madame Giry; sure she must have some sixth sense. She bobbed a hasty curtsey and exited the room.

"What is so important that cannot wait until later Madame?" asked Christine impatiently.

"These were left for you in my quarters Christine,"

Madame Giry took from behind her back what she had previously been concealing. Christine gasped at the sight of a familiar red rose, as always tied with a black ribbon. But her eyes flew to the missive she also held. Christine took it with shaky hands, running a fingertip over the red wax seal.

"Thank you," she answered quietly.

"Madame, my daughter and I will maintain our silence in this matter, but please be careful. I have known Erik since he was a boy. He can be beautiful yet terrible as others have found to their cost,"

"He will not harm me," Christine replied confidently.

"Non, but he is capable of harming those he considers to be in his way or yours for that matter,"

"I have faith in him. Can one who has known him longer than any of us also try to?" She asked.

Madame Giry sighed, knowing her pleas would go unheeded as she exited the room. Christine tore open the black edged envelope and unfolded the single sheet of paper it contained.

_**Forgive me **_

_**Yours eternally **_

_**E**_

Christine took a deep breath to control the tears that threatened to surface. The weight she had been carrying at the callousness of their parting was lifted with just a few simple words. She could understand his anger and bitterness. She would die at the thought of him in the arms of another and wished with all her heart that she could spare him that pain also. Brought back to the present by the striking of the mantle clock, she hastily concealed the rose and his letter in the draw of her bureau and lockd it securely behind her.

As she made her way along the candlelit corridor towards the dining room, she took a few steadying breaths to compose herself and paste a smile on her face before the servant opened the door on the brightly lit room. Raoul and Meg were already seated at the table, he at the head and she at the side. Both rose as she entered the room. Raoul pulled out a chair for her and seated her at his side before placing a kiss on her cheek.

"Where were you Christine? I missed you," asked Raoul.

"I had to consult with Madame Giry and the cook about tonight's menu and you know how long it takes us ladies to make ourselves beautiful for you," she teased.

"I am beginning to," he smiled at her warmly.

Christine looked at Meg, who looked back at her with reproving eyes. Her friend knew all too well where she had been and with whom.

"Did you get a chance to speak to your mother Meg?" asked Christine.

"Oui, she has been acquainting me with all that has happened since your return," Meg replied.

Christine blushed and looked away at her husband. All conversation ended at the servants arrived with the entrée. She eyed the watercress soup with as much enthusiasm as if it was a viper asleep on her plate, but for appearances sake she ate a few spoonfuls before dabbing at her lips with a napkin.

"Christine I am worried about you. You look so pale," Raoul said taking her hand in his. It was icy cold to the touch. "You are cold; I shall send one of the servants for a shawl,"

"Please do not bother on my account," Christine pleaded.

He smiled at her indulgently before ringing the bell. She sighed and accepted his care with all the guilt in the world, knowing that she was not the wife he deserved.

* * *

And so the days went on. Meg's visit became longer in its duration due to Christine's wish to have her friend's company. Raoul's business often took him away from the estate, leaving her with much free time on her hands. Her husband had taken her delicacy seriously, having only pressed his attentions on her, but a few times since their return from their wedding trip. The first time, after she had allowed Raoul to touch her since becoming Erik's lover, she had silently sobbed into her pillow, hoping that Erik would find it in his heart to forgive her.

When she had next met Erik he has sensed the change in her and knew its cause. He had wept, knowing it would be inevitable, but he had not let Christine see his tears. Saving them insteadfor the silence which always followed her visits. He had been more than a little rough with her during their lovemaking, wanting to erase the other's memory from her body and her mind.

Although Meg had said she would not lie for her, she had on several occasions made excuses for Christine's absences when asked. The lies and deceit were taking their toll on Christine; she knew she had lost weight. Her well fitting gowns were beginning to hang on her, even the loosing of her corset could not hide the fact that she was wasting away.

It had been on one evening on the occasion of her husband's absences, while her friend and she dined that they had been interrupted by Raoul's hasty return. He had burst into the room, breathless and agitated.

"What is it my love?" asked Christine, as his troubled expression.

"I have received orders from my old regiment. All able bodied men are being called to defend Paris against the Prussian army,"

Christine was not the only one to pale at this news. Meg's eyes rounded fearfully, but she hastily looked down to mask her expression.

"Oh Raoul you must not go. You could be killed," Christine pleaded.

Raoul walked over to his wife and embraced her. "Do not fret, I have to. It is my duty as a Frenchman and a patriot. What example would I set if I hid behind my title and not help defend what is ours?" he asked as he kissed the top of her head. "I leave on the morrow,"

Christine felt a light-headedness envelope her as she grew slack and sagged against his form. It was not for several moments that he realised that she had passed out. He lifted her paper white face to his before scooping her up in his arms and carrying her to their bedroom. Meg let out a horror-struck cry at her friend's unconscious body held in the arms of her husband.

"Meg, call for your mother," the viscomte shouted after him.

"Yes at once monsieur," she replied, running off in the direction of her mother's apartments.

Meg hammered on the door to her mother's living quarters only to be met by her harassed mama.

"What is it child?" asked her mother, seeing her daughter's frightened expression.

"Christine, she received some bad news from the viscomte and passed out,"

Madame Giry grabbed her shawl and followed her daughter. "What was the nature of this business?"

"Raoul has been called to arms in the defence of the city," Meg informed her.

Madame Giry sighed in the relief that she felt at her daughter's words. Sure that the news would be of another nature entirely. They both arrived at the door to Christine's bedchamber. The viscomte had managed to bring her round with some smelling salts and a little colour had returned to her otherwise ashen face.

"Good you are here; please can you stay with Christine? I am going to fetch Doctor Vaullario at once," He raised a hand at his wife's unspoken protests. He quickly lowered his head to place a kiss on Christine's cheek and was gone.

"Really all this fuss for a simple fainting spell, I feel fine. It was just the shock of Raoul's news that is all," sighed Christine as she sank back against the pillows as another dizzy spell came over her.

"To be sure, but you are going to stay put in that bed until the doctor has had chance to examine you," Madame Giry replied sternly.

She looked at Madame Giry "Will you send a message to him? Tell him that I will be unable to keep our appointment tonight after all," she smiled weakly.

Madame Giry nodded and looked over at her daughter. "Stay with Christine until my return mignon,"

Meg smiled at her mother and held her friend's cold hand in hers.

"You love him that much that you would risk all for him?" asked Meg.

"He is my soul Meg. I have tried not to love him, but he eclipses all else. Every time we part a little of me withers on the inside only to be restored when I am with him again. I curse the day I ever married Raoul, but not because I hate him, I do not, but because I was plunging all concerned into this hell of my own making. There are times when I cannot see any release other than death,"

Meg paled at her friend's impassioned words. "This is not what you have been doing to yourself is it? Do you wish for death Christine?"

"No, what I wish for I can never have," sighed Christine, as a tear rolled down her cheek, lost in the thickness of her hair. She closed her eyes against the pity in Meg's face no longer able to bear it.

Both heads turned several moments later at the sound of Madame Giry's heated voice, accompanied by a much richer one. Erik burst in the room, breathless and wild looking, and his mask obscuring the twisted features beneath it as he strode over to her bedside.

He turned to look at Madame Giry and Meg. "Leave us," he ordered.

"I do not take orders from you," said Madame Giry.

"Now," he barked at her.

"Please," asked Christine tiredly.

"Very well, but if the master returns then God help us all," said Madame Giry throwing her hands up in defeat as she steered her daughter from the room. "I will be just outside if you need me,"

"Thank you," Christine replied, as Madame Giry closed the doors on them.

Erik got down on one knee and took her in his arms. Stroking her rich curls as he breathed in her scent, it was not until she felt wetness at the nape of her neck did she comprehend that he had been weeping. She lifted his head to look at her, removing his mask, preferring there to be no barriers between them as she stroked his rough cheek tenderly.

"Do not shed tears for me, I am not worth it," she sighed.

"Christine, can you not comprehend that if anything happened to you I would no longer want to live?" he asked his fingers bunching the sheets in anguished frustration.

She nodded. "It is the same for me, but do not fret. I am well. It was just a fainting spell. I received some bad news, my husband is to go and fight,"

Erik looked at her intently. "You cannot bear to be parted from him?"

"I care for him too Erik, even if it is not as a wife should, I have known him since I was a small child. Try to understand," she sighed.

Erik got onto the bed and cradled her in his arms. "Never leave me Christine," he whispered against her throat.

"Never," she promised.

The urgent knocking at the door brought the lovers back to the situation at hand.

Christine looked at Erik in alarm. "You must go. My husband will soon be returning,"

"No I will not leave you," he insisted.

Madame Giry opened the doors and Erik sat up on the bed. "You must go at once, the viscomte will be here at any moment," she urged.

"Please Erik, if not for yourself then for me," begged Christine.

Erik kissed her gently on the cheek. "Only for you," he sighed.

Madame Giry led him out the door and through her chambers and into the cover of night. She watched to make sure that he left; when satisfied he had gone she ran back to her mistress's bedchamber with seconds to spare. The viscomte arrived moments later with a harassed looking elderly gentleman. He walked over to his patient before looking at the occupants of the room.

"Please leave us, while I examine the patient. Monsieur le viscomte you may stay," commanded the doctor.

Christine smiled her thanks at Madame Giry and Meg as they exited to the room to leave her in the capable hands of her husband and physician. Raoul paced the room in nervous agitation as he awaited the doctor's diagnosis. Getting more and more impatient at the collective ah ha's the old man kept muttering as he asked Christine questions. The doctor finally put away his instruments and turned to face the viscomte.

"Well?" asked Raoul impatiently.

"Mostly a case of exhaustion and lack of good food. I suggest plenty of rest and fluids," the doctor replied.

"Thank God," Raoul sucked in a breath as he went to Christine's side and took her hand in his.

"I told you the fuss was all about nothing," smiled Christine.

"Er I had not finished," the doctor said gruffly in annoyance, not used to being interrupted, even by a viscomte.

"Tell me," asked Christine, almost knowing what he was going to say before the words left his mouth.

"Congratulations are in order Viscomte your wife is enceinte, with child," he replied as he left the room.

TBC


	10. Confessions

A/N Thanks for all the reviews of the last chapter, some of the questions will be answered in later chapters that I have already written for those who asked. Raoul going off to war may seem convienient, but I have used information of what was going on in that area at that time and it is essential for the story I am trying to tell. :)

Chapter 10

Confessions 

Christine concentrated on the fading footfalls of the doctor as if her life depended upon it. The room was deathly silent. Raoul turned her face to look at him.

"Is it true?" He asked.

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak yet.

"Oh Christine, how wonderful, we are to have a child. My darling, darling wife," he put his arms around her and held her to him.

Christine was as limp in his arms as a marionette as words still failed to come to her. She knew she should express some form of delight at the news of her impending child, but she could not. And to her greatest shame, she did not know for sure her child's maker, wishing it to be Erik's did not make it so. Tears slid down her face and Raoul wiped them away, mistaking their origin.

"Hush, you are overcome. I hear it is quite common for ladies in your condition to weep at times such as these," he smiled gently at her before passing her his pocket handkerchief.

Christine wiped at her eyes, taking the moments behind the snowy whiteness of the fine linen to compose herself. Knowing she could hide no longer she placed the scrap of material on her bedside table and smiled at her husband through her tears.

"I had suspected that there might be something, but was unsure until the doctor confirmed it. I did not want to raise your hopes,"

Raoul kissed her and tucked her up in the bed, his hands gentle and worshipful. She closed her eyes to stop the biting remark that hovered at her lips, knowing she was nothing more than an ungrateful wretch. But all she wished for at that moment was to see Erik, and tell him of her news. How he would take it was another matter entirely.

"Little Lottie, you are tired," he acknowledged.

"Yes I am rather," she sighed as she snuggled into the warmth of the covers. Feeling guilty for her earlier impatience she held out a hand to him. "Stay until I am asleep?"

"Of course and I don't want to retire too late tonight. I have to report to the regiment first thing in the morning," he sighed regretfully.

Christine sat up in bed at his words. "You cannot leave me now I am to have a child,"

Raoul laughed at her softly. "That you are, but not for several more months. Do you think there will not be other fathers there risking themselves to safeguard their children's futures?"

"What if you are killed?" she asked fearfully.

"That will not happen," he replied.

Christine turned over in the bed and faced the wall, the anger evident in every line of her body. "I find I wish to be alone after all,"

She heard as well as felt him rise from the bed, listening as the door closed behind her. It was not in her nature to be cruel, but she had been so to the man that most deserved her compassion for the coming days ahead. She hoped that he would return later so that she could beg his forgiveness for her churlish behaviour.

* * *

It seemed that as usual the fates were stacked against her as she awoke to the brilliant sunshine that flooded the room. The side of the bed where her husband should have been was empty. She felt the pillow, it was cold. Christine arose from the bed and it was then that she noticed the letter propped up against her mirror, at first she thought Erik had been daring enough to risk another letter, but on closer inspection it bore the De Chagny crest. She opened the unsealed letter and read her husband's parting words, angry with herself for oversleeping and angry at him for not waking her.

_**Darling Christine,**_

**_You looked so peaceful, forgive me for not waking you. I hope to be gone no more than a few weeks. Say a prayer for me as I go into battle with your face in my mind and heart. I will return, never fear, for I have much to live for, a dear wife and an heir. I count the hours and the days until I will be in your arms again._**

_**Love your Husband**_

_**Raoul.**_

Christine crumbled the sheet of paper to her chest and caught her own reflection in the mirror, noting the bright spots of colour as they were highlighted in the pallor of her face. The walls of her gilded cage were beginning to close in on her and she needed to be free. The sunlight and fresh air called to her as strongly as her desire for Erik at that moment. She needed to see him, to tell him of her child. She rang the bell and shortly a flushed and out of breath Charlotte knocked on the door and entered the room.

"Good afternoon Madame," Charlotte greeted her.

"When did my husband leave?" asked Christine.

"Oh it was some time ago, at first light,"

Christine sighed, the disappointment evident in her face as she sat at her dressing table while Charlotte worked on her hair.

"Thank you. Do you know where Meg is?"

"She is visiting in her mother's apartments Madame,"

Christine stood motionless as Charlotte laced her corset, although not as tight as was her usual habit. She smiled wryly to herself; the news of her pregnancy must have swept through the staff quarters like wildfire.

Feeling much brighter than earlier, she made her way to Madame Giry's residence and knocked on the door, it was opened moments later by Meg. Her friend had a guilty hue to her cheeks as she looked away and opened the door wider for Christine to enter.

Madame Giry sat in a high backed chair that had seen better days, rising slowly as Christine entered the room.

"Bonjour Madame, I trust you slept well?" asked Madame Giry.

"Thank you yes. My only regret is that I missed my husband's departure,"

Meg looked at Christine awkwardly. "I was there to see him off,"

Christine noticed her friend's discomfiture and wondered at it.

"If you are hungry then I am sure cook will be happy to make something for you," Madame Giry distracted her from her troubled thoughts for a moment.

"No do not trouble yourself. I see you have a fresh pot of coffee. Could I have a little of that and a slice of one of your delicious looking cakes?" asked Christine.

Madame Giry smiled at her indulgently. "You always did have a sweet tooth as a child. Not that one could tell by looking at you. And now you are to have a child of your own," she sighed, as she poured a cup of coffee for Christine and handed it to her.

Christine bit hungrily into the cake and sipped her coffee before putting both of them down.

"I know I was the topic of conversation before I entered. Please do not try to deny it; I am not angry with you. It is totally understandable in the circumstances. I came here for…advice,"

"Of what nature?"

"My child…I am not sure who the father is," Christine finished on a rush, glad that the words were finally out in the open.

"Christine, it is a wise man that knows his own child, but I do have some experience in these matters. When was your last course?" asked Madame Giry.

Christine was more than a little shocked at the directness of her substitute mother's enquiry.

"A little over two months ago. It was a couple of weeks after I began to lie with Erik that they ceased. I did not have relations with Raoul for some time after that. Oh Madame Giry, I am wretched for not knowing. The idea that it is Erik's child fills me with joy and dread all at the same time. But can I in all conscience go on in life deceiving my husband of such a great sin?"

"You would not be the first," said Madame Giry wryly.

"But Raoul, he is a good man, he deserves to know the truth," added Meg.

"No he cannot, he would cast Christine off and she would be a social outcast. Think of the scandal to his family name and yourself. No he can never know," said Madame Giry firmly.

"What if the child is born with its father's…" Christine stopped unable to finish the sentence.

"Defect?" asked Madame Giry, voicing the words that Christine could not.

"Yes," she breathed.

"Would you love the infant if it were so?" asked Madame Giry.

"The child would be his, a part of him no matter what. I would not let him or her fall to the same dark fate as Erik was allowed. How heartless a creature his mother must have been to abandon him to such a life…he told me of his childhood," said Christine sadly. She looked at Meg. "Do you think you would take a walk with me? I need to see him,"

Meg nodded and rose from her seat. "A walk would do me some good I suppose,"

"Thank you,"

Christine finished off the remainder of her cake and drained the coffee cup, feeling much restored for having eaten. The two young women looped arms and set off towards the copse of trees in the distance. They had been walking for some time before Meg broke the pensive silence that had settled over them both.

"Christine, what do you think your husband would do if he knew where Erik was?" asked Meg.

Christine stopped and turned to her friend, her face deadly serious. "He would demand satisfaction and then he would kill him,"

Meg could not help the little gasp escape her lips. Neither could dwell on the matter no more as they neared the trees.

"Is this where we part company?" asked Meg.

"Do you mind, I am sorry, but you must understand that Erik is not used to conversing with strangers. I know I am selfish, but we have so little time alone…"

Meg smiled at her. "You do not have to explain, will an hour be long enough? The grounds here are pretty and extensive enough for exploration,"

Christine pressed a kiss on Meg's cheek and walked off into the shade of the trees. Meg sighed and continued on her way.

* * *

Christine turned the handle and entered the summerhouse. It was quiet and dark inside; it saddened her to think that he had exchanged one darkened prison for another. He deserved the pleasure of walking in the sun, which was the god given right of all men. There were the remains of a meal on the table and a half finished bottle of burgundy beside it.

She tip toed slowly to his room, knocking softly on the door. She did not want to give him cause for alarm, for it was not her usual hour to visit.

"Erik," she called out.

Her mouth went dry at the sight which met her on the bed. He was fast asleep on his side. His brown hair was sleep tousled and covered his brow and from her angle he looked like a sleeping Adonis, such was the perfection of his naked form. It was only when he turned in his sleep to reveal his scarred face that the illusion was shattered. He slowly opened his eyes as he became aware that he was no longer alone. He looked up at her and smiled, not sure if he were dreaming he closed his eyes only to open them again, elated to find her still standing there, framing the doorway.

"Christine? Is it night already?" he asked

"No, it is still daylight," she smiled at him, before walking over to the bed and lying down next to him.

He drew her into his arms and held her to him.

"You are well today?" he enquired.

"Better thank you," She was a little surprised at his tender concern for her well being, but something had happened in her room last night between them. He had finally broken down that barrier he had constructed around his heart when he had been faced with the idea of losing her. She took a breath and continued "The doctor had something to tell me, something, which may well concern you and us," she breathed, her heart accelerating at the thought of what she was about to say.

"You are not sickening for something?"

"No, I am neither sick nor well, but in future when we make love, you will need to be more gentle with me," she smiled at him.

He leaned over to kiss her on the lips before drawing away. "You are not making sense and I am in no mood for riddles," he sighed.

"I am to have a child," She looked at him and he looked away, but not before she had seen a flash of pain in his eyes.

Erik got up from the bed to retrieve his robe; still unspeaking he pulled it on. He walked over to the mirror and studied his reflection before slamming a fist against it, causing it to crack. A shard fell from it to the floor and he hissed in pain.

"You have cut yourself," she cried in alarm, rushing to his side to take his hand and inspect the damage.

She pulled a little lace handkerchief from her reticule and wrapped it around his hand, watching as the crimson blood stained the whiteness of it.

"Forgive me, Christine for I want nothing more than to be your child's father. When I first came here, I was filled with anger and vengeance for you and your husband. Getting you with child was just one of the ways to make him pay, but not now. Your news fills me with such happiness that I am afraid to be pleased at what you have told me. I have learnt in life that what happiness I have embraced has always been taken from me in the next breath,"

"This is real, I am real and our child will love you," she assured him.

He turned away from the compassion he saw in her eyes. "But look at me. What if it shares my fortune?" He asked, touching his face. He could not know how closely his words had mirrored her earlier ones. "Maybe if you are fortunate you will meet with an accident and lose it. How can you want the child of such a beast?"

Christine took them both by surprise as her hand shot out and she slapped him across the face.

"Don't you ever say that again. I love this child…and I love its father," she ended on a sob.

Erik, stared at her, immobilised by her emotional declaration. His breathing was unsteady as he raked his hands through his hair. Hardly daring to hope that she meant what she had just said and feeling that he would die if she didn't. He had waited so long to hear any words of love from her, that he was afraid that he had imagined them. She had come here this day and had given him the world and had taken it away all at the same time, for in his heart he knew she was still not free to be his. He may have sown the seed that grew inside her, but by law their child belonged to De Chagny.

"Christine?" he questioned.

"I hope you are happy now, you have all of me. I love you Erik, I think I always have," she sighed.

He walked over to her side and wrapped his arms around her. "Pardon my earlier temper, it was directed more at me than at you. I could not bear the idea of a child of mine having to go through life as I do,"

Christine pulled away from him. "How do you feel about it, really?"

One of his hands slid down to rest against the slight curve of her stomach. "I pray to the God that has deserted me, that it is my child you carry. But if it is not, I would love it because it is part of you," he told her, his eyes never leaving her face.

Her hand rested on his. "Thank you," she said softly.

He lowered his head to kiss her, "No, it is me that should be grateful for all you have given me," he replied before catching her lips with his own.

"We don't have much time, Meg will be returning for me within the hour," Christine sighed, regretfully.

Erik smiled at her as he slowly and reverently removed her clothes until she lay naked before him. He slipped off his robe as he covered her body with his own, placing gentle kisses all over her heated flesh. As his hands stroked the tips of her breasts, she shuddered at the added sensitivity of them due to her condition. Erik noted her reaction and replaced the fingers with his lips.

Christine arched up off the bed as he continued his ministrations of her body, his kisses trailing down the length of her until she felt his kiss on her stomach and the feel of his hand as it rested there. She looked down at him, surprised by a suspicious wetness that rimmed his eyes. She smiled at him and stroked his hair, gasping as he moved lower.

In the aftermath of their passion they lay back in the bed together, still joined, both in body and spirit. He looked her deep in the eyes and lowered his head to kiss her sweat dampened forehead.

"I love you," he growled at her, possessively.

She smiled up at him and returned his kiss. "I love you too,"

She was unprepared for the look of complete joy that spread across his face, as he finally accepted the gift they had been granted.

"I am to be a father," he said softly.

TBC


	11. Calling a Truce

A/N: The conflict that I have mentioned in the previous chapters was an actual historical event that occurred late 1870 in Paris. I have used a little artistic licence in drawing out the conflict's actual length for the purposes of my story as well as some of the circumstances of the battle. I have been remiss in thanking people for the previous reviews so thank you to all those who have reviewed so far.

Chapter 11

Calling a Truce

In the days that followed her announcement, a harmony that she have only dreamt of in her wildest imaginings settled upon them. Almost daily despatches arrived at the estate from Raoul. He was well and that was enough for her. His letters were brief, giving little away for reasons of security. A lot of the guilt from the double life she had been leading lifted in her husband's absence. It was on warm autumn afternoons such as these, where she lay in Erik's arms and in his bed that she could imagine that they were wed and this was their home and shelter from the outside world.

Meg had been persuaded to stay on and Christine had offered her a formal position as her companion. Things, as they were in Paris were hardly conducive to her friend's return. If Meg had accepted with more than a little enthusiasm at the idea of remaining here, then Christine had not marked her reaction as anything out of the ordinary than an continued desire for her company.

She smiled in contentment as she rested her head against the flesh of his neck. It was still slightly sweat dampened from their recent lovemaking. He kissed the top of her head and sighed, his breath stirring her hair and sending delicious sensations through her whole body.

"Erik?"

"Yes my love,"

"Do you ever think about the future? I mean about what will happen with us?" She asked.

"I think of nothing else…when he returns I intend to go and speak to him about you, and us," he informed her.

"You can't as I have told you before, he will kill you. If anything happened to you I could not bear to live,"

Erik smiled against her hair. "Yes you would, you have our child to live for. No matter what happens to us, whether we live or whether we die, that child will be a living breathing evidence of that love. Nothing and no one can change that," he told her.

"Oh Erik I am scared,"

"Don't be, as I said, I will always be with you. Only death can part us now,"

_Or Raoul_ she kept the thought to herself not wanting to voice her inner fears. She lifted her head to kiss him and trying to dispel the shadow that crossed her heart at that moment.

Erik felt her shiver in his arms and mistaking its reason he drew away and pulled the bedcovers over her.

"There, we can't have you catching a chill. It would not be good for you or the baby,"

She smiled, warmed by the fact that her welfare was just as important to him as their child's. She had heard too much of _"It's not good for the baby" _over that last couple of weeks with no mention of her own self being of any importance. _If had been as if the De Chagny heir was all that mattered_, she thought resentfully. The rub of it was that the chance of it actually being the De Chagny heir was about as likely at someone one day flying to the moon. _She had had relations with her husband for six whole months before returning home and nothing had happened until she had slept with Erik, which had to count for something didn't it?_

"Erik tell me again the story where we are the only two people in a world of our making and only love and music reign," she asked.

Erik laughed softly. "In some ways you are still so much a child, but I will indulge you,"

"Thank you,"

"There was a far away kingdom on some exotic shore, but it was a kingdom like no other for in it dwelt only two beings. The unromantic fairytale monster and his beautiful bride…beauty and the beast were their names,"

"Behave," she scolded.

He continued "And in this world the two lovers swam in the sea by day and by night they sang such beautiful songs that the moon would weep tears at their loveliness. Nothing could ever harm them for they were protected by the bonds of love and one day they were blessed with the news that they would have a child. A perfect testimony to their love and happiness, but there was one dark cloud hanging over their ideal bliss…an evil Machiavellian viscomte who planned to steal away their unborn child and make it his own," he finished bitterly

Christine got up from the bed, pulled on her shift and walked over to the shuttered windows.

"My tale is not to your liking? He asked harshly. "Not all fairytales have happy endings Christine,"

She turned round to face him, the tears shining in her eyes. "Why do you do it…be so gentle and tender in one moment and in the next sentence are full of anger and hatred?"

Erik rose from the bed. "And that is not what you were thinking only moments ago Christine? That your husband could take what is ours at any time he wished?"

She looked at him as he read the fear in her eyes. Christine often wondered if he had some magical portal into her very soul, for he seemed to know her better than she knew herself. Sometimes it terrified her that he had so much insight to the inner workings of her mind.

"Raoul would not do that. He is not a cruel man," Christine replied defensively.

"Oh, Christine who knows what evil the most virtuous of men may do in the name of l'amour? I have a feeling your husband would be no different when it came to affairs of the heart,"

She remained silent in the truth of his statement, finding no argument to defend it. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her and kissed the column of her throat.

"Do not seek to tame me Christine. For too long have I lived outside of society's rules. What care I of them? They made me the monster that I am. My wildness is what stirs you and makes you cry out my name when I possess you. I would do anything for you my love, even kill, but please do not ask me to be more than I am. Only two things matters to me in this world and they are you and our child, both of which, I would defend with my life. The rest of the world can go to hell as far as I am concerned,"

She turned in his embrace and her arms linked behind his neck as she pulled his head down for a kiss. "I love you," she breathed softly against his lips.

She gasped as his fingers tightened possessively around her waist and she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. Its rhythm comforted her and went some way to calming her troubled thoughts.

"We must dress, Meg is bound to return at any moment and I would not want to be a further cause of distress to her. Her mother, Madame Giry is a force to be reckoned with,"

"Liar," she smiled at him to soften her words. She heard his low chuckle as he moved away to retrieve his shirt. "I am sure there is nothing in this world that you fear,"

He stopped momentarily. "In that you are mistaken. There are many things in this world that scare me, not least of which is the idea of ever losing you,"

She swallowed hard at the raw emotion in his voice, before looking away and finding her clothes. They dressed and returned to the living room, Christine seated herself in his only armchair and he walked over to the piano and sat down at it. Seeing him there reminded her of their fierce lovemaking in that very same place weeks earlier. By the intense look in his eyes she could tell that he was thinking of it also.

"Come here," he commanded, holding out his hand to her.

She walked over to him and took his outstretched hand. He turned around on the stool and lifted the lid on the piano, retrieving some sheet music from a stack of papers that were scattered across its glass like surface.

"Have you been practising the song I gave you?" he asked.

"When I could. With so many people around me it is hard to find the opportunity as much as I would wish,"

"I will not scold you for having missed note. Do your best my love," he urged.

His fingers began to move over the keyboard and he closed his eyes as the music enveloped him in another world far from the harsh realities of the one he dwelt in. Christine sucked in a breath at the beauty of him in that moment before she begun to sing softly to the music he played.

* * *

Meg neared the summerhouse. She could hear the faint strains of music as she came in close proximity of it and her friend's voice as it rang out pure and true. There was something in the sadness of the song that pulled at her own heart and made her more aware of her own helpless plight. Christine had been closer to the mark than she realised when she had accused her of being in love with her husband.

She thought back to the day that she had first seen him, at the Opera Populaire. At first he had not even noticed Christine, let alone herself. But after Christine's performance at the gala, that had all swiftly changed. Then she had the agony of watching him fall in love with her best friend and almost sister. It had not of course gone unnoticed under the eagle sharp eyes of her mother, whom had informed her that she would only find hurt if she continued down her present path. After all what could a penniless ballet dancer expect from a viscomte?

People like him only took girls like her for a mistress. They certainly didn't marry them. Christine, although also impoverished had the advantage of a famous and admired father, who had been accepted into the best of houses due to his musical talents. She did not begrudge her friend's happiness, but it ate away at her, knowing that she was setting up her husband for future agonies, when he discovered her infidelities with the phantom.

If Raoul had chosen her, she would have adored him all the days of her life, but how did you convey that to someone that hardly knew you lived and breathed? Then he had become her friend's fiancée and then his wife, which had put him forever beyond her reach. She was brought back to the present by the final strains of their love song.

Meg lifted her hand and knocked on the door.

"One moment," called Christine's voice from within.

Erik and Christine continued to look at each other, long after the song had ended. The spell that it had weaved around them, broken only by the sharp knock on the door. She looked at Erik in anguish as the moment of their parting had arrived.

"One moment," she called out to Meg.

She took his white mask from the nearby table on which it rested and placed it on her lover's face. He caught her hand and pressed it to his good cheek and closed his eyes.

"One day there will be no more goodbyes between us," he told her gruffly.

"In my heart there are none, only time that is passed until we are together again," she sighed, taking his hand and kissing it before making her way over to the door to admit her friend.

Meg looked at Erik seated across the room from her. He could not help the little smile that crossed his lips as he read the fear in her eyes which had not lessened on several meetings with him.

"Good day mademoiselle,"

Meg could only nod, in fearfulness of his commanding presence. His smile and the mask only leant more weight to his sinister appearance and infamy. He got up from the stool and walked over to Christine and took her hands. She glanced self-consciously at her friend and blushed.

"I will wait outside if that is a-agreeable," stammered Meg as she made to leave. "Do not be much longer for we will be missed at luncheon and we do not want a search party to come looking for us,"

Christine nodded as her friend exited the house. Alone once more, Erik took her in his arms and kissed her as if a starving man taking his first meal in a long time, she responded in kind as she felt his desperation in the touch of his lips against hers.

"Until we next meet," she sighed, quickly leaving the room.

He stood there in the dark silence of his home for several long moments after she had vacated it. He breathed in her scent which slowly began to fade. He drew in a ragged breath and returned to his one solace in the hours without her, his music.

* * *

The battle for Paris still raged on many miles from the De Chagny estate, and as it grew in its ferocity letters from Raoul became fewer and further between, but she had learnt to accept it. Sometimes in the still of the night, the far-away rumble of cannon fire would carry even at this distance. It was at these times that she prayed for her husband's safe return more than anything.

She played with the soft petals of the red rose that she held in her hand. Erik never failed to leave one on her pillow. She would find it each night after she retired to bed whether it had been spent in his arms or not. The very first rose he had given her, after they had made love, she had pressed between the pages of her common prayer book. A secret that was only for her when she missed him the most, which, was in almost every waking moment she acknowledged. She would take the prayer book to the family chapel and look at his gift, while she prayed for her immortal soul and the wickedness in which it was steeped.

She rested her hand on the softly swelling curve of her stomach, now almost in her fifth month of pregnancy. Her condition was more than evident against the thinness of her frame. She sucked in a breath as she felt the child stir within her womb. Christine started as the loud explosion from another cannon reached her ears. She looked across the park into the darkness, no longer feeling as alone when she saw a dark familiar shape moving in the gloom towards her. She was not afraid, knowing the identity of the interloper before he came fully into view. He walked with the assurance of one who knew he was welcome, the moonlight bathed him, giving him an ethereal look almost as phantom like in his appearance as was his given name.

"Erik," she smiled, walking across the terrace from her bedroom to greet him.

He rested his hands on their child and kissed her hungrily on the lips before taking her arms and leading her towards his home.

* * *

Raoul led what was left of his regiment forward, most of the men tired and wounded as they took a last stand against the Prussian army. His sabre was drawn as he charged into the thick of the fight, with no thought for his own safety as he held the image of Christine's sweet face in his mind as he cut down one soldier then another. There were just too many of them, most of who fought at his side were no more than boys and rustics with no training in the ways of fighting at all. They were mown down like so many blades of grass before his very eyes.

He wiped away the blood and perspiration that trickled into his eyes, blurring his vision. It was then that he felt the slice of his enemy's blade as it cut deeply into his back. The white hot pain burned through him as darkness welcomed him like a friend. "Christine," he whispered, his last thoughts of her before the threatening blackness rushed up to meet him.

TBC


	12. The Black Knight

Past the point of no return

Chapter 12

Christine sat up sharply in the bed bathed in sweat, gasping for breath. Erik awoke at her sudden movements, instantly alert as he took a hold of her.

"What is it?" he asked.

She turned to look at him, her face pale in the candlelight. "I had a dreadful nightmare,"

Erik put his arms around her and stroked her hair. "It was but a dream Christine," he said as he tried to soothe her, feeling her body tremble against his.

She lay back against his chest. "But it seemed so real…it was Raoul,"

Christine felt his body tense beneath her cheek at the mention of her husband's name.

"What happened?" asked Erik guardedly.

"He was in the dark and lost…he called out my name, but I couldn't reach him, he just disappeared,"

"I am sure it is nothing, but your piety rearing its ugly head. It happens to all God fearing creatures from time to time," he replied mockingly.

"But not to you," Christine said quietly, stung by his answer.

"No not to me, I was godless to start off with. Conscience is a luxury I can ill afford,"

"I can't shake off the feeling that the dream was a portent of something more ghastly. It was so real Erik,"

Erik sighed to himself as he pulled her closer, sometimes her husband was so tangible it was like there were three of them in their bed instead of two. He was sure that her dream had been little more than the product of an over exhausted mind.

"Go to sleep, I will watch out for you," Erik replied as he pulled the covers over her.

She took his hand. "Thank you my angel,"

He smiled, it had been so long since she has called him that he did not realise that he had missed it until that moment.

"Pray for sweet dreams," he replied.

"Mmm," she was already half asleep, feeling safe in the circle of his arms.

_He was her angel, her angel in a hell of her making_. Erik sighed heavily and looked across to the shuttered window; he shivered as if someone had just stepped on his grave. He continued to watch over her until the first streaks of dawn penetrated through the gaps in the windows. Only then did he close his eyes and let sleep take him.

* * *

"Meg pass me that kettle from the stove and be careful child, use a cloth," said Madame Giry.

Meg handed it to her, watching as her mother made the coffee. She sighed loudly in the almost silent room.

"What is it? Is there something troubling you?"

"No, not really mama. It's just that when I took the position of companion here, I actually thought there would be more well…companionship. Christine spends nearly every waking moment with Erik, I hardly see her except at meal times. I feel as if I am just an alibi for her clandestine meetings,"

Madame Giry looked at her daughter shrewdly. "All this melancholy wouldn't have anything to do with the continued absence of a handsome young vicomte would it Meg?" she asked sharply.

Meg blushed and looked away. "Of course not mama we have already had that conversation,"

Madame Giry remained unconvinced. "There is only heartache for you down that road. He loves Christine and will do until the last breath leaves his body Meg,"

"Oh mother I know you are right. I should leave here, maybe even leave Paris. There is always need of good ballet dancers at the opera house in Milan,"

"I would miss you terribly Meg, but at least you might find happiness away from the situation," sighed her mother.

"I will stay until Christine's child is born, then I will go," said Meg, resting her hand on her mother's.

Madame Giry glanced at the clock on her mantelpiece. "Quickly child you must go and get Christine, it is almost six and the servants will be rising soon,"

Meg wrapped a woollen shawl around her to keep out the early morning chills, bidding her mother goodbye and leaving her apartments. As she made her way across the dew dampened grass, she could see a rider coming up the drive towards the house. He passed her at a full gallop; Meg thought nothing of it and continued on her way. _It was probably no more than the latest news from the viscomte_ She mused to herself as she entered the copse. She was astonished to see Christine already outside the house.

Christine smiled at her friend. "I see you were surprised to find me waiting for you. Erik was asleep and I didn't want to wake him. He has been up all night," Meg giggled and Christine's cheeks flushed. "And not for the reason you think either," she finished in a self-conscious rush.

"I did wonder at your enthusiasm to be gone. I thought you might want to know that a rider passed me on the way here. He was headed for the house," Meg informed her.

"Ah, maybe it is news from Raoul. We'd better hurry back to the house. Well as fast as I can hurry these days," said Christine as she touched her swollen stomach.

Meg tucked her arm through Christine's and they began their walk back to the house. The same rider passed them again on his departure, touching his hat briefly before he continued on his way.

"He looks a grim fellow," said Meg, after he had passed.

Christine felt a dread build inside her as her dream came back to her. "Maybe he was a bearer of ill tidings. That would give him little to smile at. I need to get back to the house and find out if all is well with Raoul…I had this dream last night and…never mind," she said, shaking her head at her own fancifulness.

They were both surprised to be met by Madame Giry as they neared the door to her apartments. She looked pale and tearful, as if holding a great deal of emotion.

"What is it?" asked Christine, almost afraid of the answer.

"Come into the parlour Madame and sit down first," she replied.

Meg led Christine to a chair and sat down next to her and held her hand as they both waited for the news. Madame Giry handed her an envelope, sealed with a wax seal. It bore the mark of the French army in its stamp. Christine held it, her hands shaking as she broke its seal and took out the piece of paper inside.

There were words, but she could not read them, the lines all fudged together in one big black blur. She passed the letter to Meg in distress.

"Could you read it please?" asked Christine.

Meg squeezed her hand and began to read.

b "Vicomtess De Chagny It is with great regret that I have to inform you that your husband the Vicomte De Chagny fell in the final hours of the battle for Paris.

He fought bravely and well and was a hero to the end. Several eyewitnesses from his regiment saw his fall at the hands of an enemy's sword.

Not wishing to cause you more distress, but we are unable to return the body as there are many casualties and it may take some time before he will be restored to you. I am sorry for your loss," /b Meg finished on a sob.

Christine sat there, her back upright and ramrod straight. Her eyes the only animation in her white face as she focused on a china figurine that rested on the mantelshelf. The quiet sobbing of her friend by her side was almost unintelligible, as she tried to absorb what she had just been told.

"I won't believe it, I would know if he were dead. I would know in here," she replied, touching her chest and dashing away angry tears with her hand.

"But Christine they are talking about returning his body," said Meg.

"But it seems they do not have a body. Look at the letter; it says it will be some time before he is restored to me. Why? If they have a body and the conflict is past and they are making a treaty with Prussia, then why can't they return it…I mean him,"

Madame Giry walked over to Christine and put her arms around her. "You have to accept the fact that he is gone child," she said sadly.

Christine struggled in her arms, but Madame Giry held her tightly until all the fight had gone out of her and she wept, her tears so plentiful that they dampened the front of her dress. Finally her tears began to subside and she lifted her tearstained face to look at her would be mother.

"I need to be alone," she said quietly.

"Madame…"

She snatched the letter from Meg's hands and Christine held up her hand to silence Madame Giry as she slowly made her way from the room, her movements as slow as an old woman as she closed the door behind her.

Meg looked at her mother. "She is in shock," her face crumpled as she fell to her knees and sobbed into the seat of the chair she had been sitting on. Madame Giry stroked her daughter's hair as she poured out all her grief for the fallen Viscomte.

* * *

Once alone in her room, Christine gave in to the hurt and pain and the soul searing guilt that had been building inside her. _This was God's punishment for her infidelities. He had been too good for her and for that he had been taken from her._ But still she would not believe he was gone, not until his body was laid before her eyes and she had seen him for herself. If he were truly gone then she would know it, feel it inside her. Mistakes in battles happened all the time and maybe the witnesses had been mistaken in what they had seen. What if he was hurt somewhere, calling for her? The possibilities were driving her mad.

She knelt at the bedside, her eyes focused on his shaving kit left on the dresser. _What had used them would never touch them again. No she would not believe it_. The silent scream that built in her head was threatening to spill onto her lips. She took deep breaths to steady herself. She had to remain calm and resolute; she would do neither the baby nor herself any good with all this stress. Christine went over to her armoire and took out her cloak and wrapped it around herself and opened the veranda doors to her bedroom and slipped out of the house unnoticed.

* * *

Erik rose from the bed and put on his robe. He smiled to himself as he remembered their night together. With the viscomte being off playing soldiers she had devoted her daylight hours to him as well as the night and they had fallen into a comfortable pattern, of almost conjugal bliss. How happy their lives might have been had she chosen him. His fingers tightened on the ties of his robe as the old bitterness he wore as tangibly as his garments flooded back to him. His lips curled into a sneer as he thought of the Vicomte, if he were lucky the Prussians would put a bullet in that pretty little head of his and then there would be nothing to stop him claiming Christine and their child for his own.

He sighed and walked into the living room, walking over to the small stove in the corner; he lit it and sat back in his chair. He was instantly wary at urgent knocking on his door. He strode over to the small closet and removed his sword, He pulled back the edge of a curtain, and relaxing as he saw it was she.

He put his sword away and walked back over to the door. He was unprepared for the way she flung herself into his arms, as she almost knocked the breath from his body.

"Christine what is it?" he asked as he wrapped his arms around her. He led her to a chair and sat her down, kneeling at her feet as he looked into her red rimmed eyes. "Who has done this to you? I will kill whoever dared to…"

"No, it is Raoul," she interrupted.

"He has returned?" asked Erik.

Christine shook her head and began to laugh hysterically. Her laughter subsided and she looked at Erik. She handed him the letter she had received and watched for his reaction as he perused the contents.

Hope lifted in his heart; she was free, no longer bound by a marriage she did not want. He could experience no sorrow at the boy's death. If Christine had come to him for consolation at her husband's passing, she would not find it here. He could not express sympathy and regret that he did not feel.

He looked at her, placing a finger under her chin, forcing her look at him. "What do you want from me Christine? I am the wrong person to come to with such news that I can only regard with the utmost joy. Do not expect me to shed bitter tears for him with you. I regret not one of my actions in this whole affair. Are you sure it is the sting of grief that moves you to tears or the sting of shame?"

She looked at him as the angry tears he had mocked her for, spilt down her cheeks. His words scored deep into her soul. _He was right, she had been wrong to come here_, she thought wretchedly as she rose to leave.

"Wait," he sighed. "Do not leave like this; you came here for a reason. You knew that I would be this way, yet still you came to me. Why?" he asked.

Christine looked at him. "Because I do not believe that he is dead and because I want you to find him for me and bring him home,"

The shocked silence that met her request rang through the room as loudly as any cannon fire could produce, more profound in its prediction. He walked over to her and closed the gap between them. His fingers biting into her forearms, she welcomed the pain, rather than shied away from it. It gave her focus.

"What would you do for me, if I undertook such a task?" he demanded. "Surely the risking of my life for that of a man whom I despise demands some recompense?"

She took a breath, before answering. "If you bring Raoul back to the estate, even if he happens to still be living, then I will leave him and go anywhere with you as you wish,"

Erik crushed her to him. "You would go willingly, leave all this for an uncertain life with me?" he asked fervently.

"Yes," she replied.

"Then I will do it, not for him, never for him, but for you and us,"

"Thank you,"

Christine sagged against him, in relief. She could not make up for all the wrong she had done to Raoul, he may be dead as she had been told he was, but he deserved this chance at life and Erik would be the one to grant it to him in a strange ironic turn of events. In doing so she had made a pact with the devil, but she had already sold her soul to him long ago, she acknowledged.

He trailed kisses along her throat, and she responded to them, welcoming the sweet oblivion of their mutual desire as she turned her head to kiss him full on the lips. Erik's hands roamed her body, caressing every inch of her skin. He slowly unbuttoned her gown and it fall to the floor. He took her hand and led her to their bedroom and closed the door behind them.

They lay down on the bed together, a renewed urgency in their lovemaking as she unbelted his robe and parted it, kissing the bare skin of his chest. She glanced up to look at his face, still awed by his reactions to her touch.

He allowed her have mastery over his body until he was almost at the brink, until he gently took her hand and drew her up his body until she was straddling him. He lifted her shift over her head and drank in the site of her body, ripened by the child she carried. He sat forward, kissing her lips and stroking her body with long agile fingers.

"I need you," she begged.

* * *

His heart contracted at the sight of her. Her skin still glowing from their lovemaking, her belly swollen with _their_ child, for he considered it his no matter what. She was his natural wife and he her natural husband and he would love the babe for being a part of her.

She smiled at him through her tears, gasping slightly, putting a hand to her stomach.

"What is it?" he asked.

She took one of his hands and placed it on her belly. He looked at her in wonder as he felt the child within her move beneath his hand. He swallowed down the emotion that rose within him. The shadow of their imminent separation hung over them as they lay side by side, looking into each others eyes. Both of them savoured these precious moments in silence more prolific than words they could ever hope to utter.

* * *

He waited until nightfall preferring his chances of getting into the city under the cover of night. The light faded as the day gave way to night and dusk fell. He primed and readied a pair of pistols, concealing them within his cloak. Christine handed him his sword which he strapped around his lean waist. He took twin daggers and concealed them within his knee cut boots. His final article to stow away within the saddle bags was his most trusted weapon of all, a length of rope knotted in a fashion to bring swift death to who ever was caught in its coils.

He looked at her, a wry smile on his lips as she handed him his mask. "Does not even the black knight have the honour of carrying his lady's favour into battle?" he asked mockingly.

Christine searched around in her reticule, handing him a white pressed handkerchief. It still bore the stain of his blood from when he had cut his hand on the mirror those few weeks ago, even though it had been washed since. He held it up and traced the initials **C.D. **It was fitting to him that it was something of hers, not purchased for her by her husband. He took it and tied it around his wrist and concealed it beneath his shirt sleeve.

"Erik, I…" she stopped herself, afraid that if she continued, that she would beg him not to go. But she knew now that even if she did so, she had set something in motion that could not be stopped. It was no longer in her hands. She had set him a quest and given a promise and he would do her bidding.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing…except, I love you," she reached up on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips.

He kissed her back with an ardent passion of a condemned man taking his last look at the world. He lowered his head and kissed her belly.

"If I should not return…" he began.

Christine placed a finger on his lips. "No, do not say it," she finished on a sob.

He swiftly placed one more kiss on her lips before mounting his black stallion and galloping off into the night. Christine watched, with the tears falling freely down her cheeks, as her whole world faded into the darkness of night.

TBC


	13. Honour Among Thieves

Chapter 13

Honour among thieves

Erik encountered very few travellers on his journey into to Paris, unlike his preceding visit. There were a few wounded soldiers limping back to their homes and farms in abject defeat. He paid them little heed as he focused on his task ahead. As he neared the boundaries of the city he found some trees in which to shelter his horse, before continuing on foot. He pulled his hood over his head and kept to the shadows. One hand rested on his sword the other on one of his pistols as he drew nearer, the stench of death hung heavily on the air and invaded his nostrils.

He touched the handkerchief on his wrist to remind him why he was here, to save or find a man he cared nothing for. _He would break into the very gates of hell for her;_ he mused and kill all of hells minions if she demanded it of him. Christine had been naïve in her request, she had asked him to become the very thing that she abhorred…a killer. He was ready to take lives to achieve his purpose, but he wasn't so sure that his heart was in still in it. Not that killing had ever given him pleasure, all the people that had died had been a means to an end, none of them truly innocent and he could not see the wrong in it, even if she could.

He pulled back momentarily as a regiment of enemy soldiers marched by, and then he continued on his way. As he entered Paris, it dawned on him that this war was far from over, he could sense it in the mood of the Parisians, and in the whispers on street corners, they would not submit to the Germans without a final uprising. They were too proud a nation to give into a conquering one without question. If he was to find the viscomte then it had to be soon, before the real fight for Paris began.

He slipped into the darkened alleys which he had come to know well, and he made his way towards his old lodging house. The rooms were still held for him as he had paid the lease well in advance. No one paid any attention to the black clad figure that moved silently through the street and entered the rundown building, for there seemed to be secret meetings of all kinds going on, so one more furtive figure was hardly cause for concern. He sneered in distaste as he lit a candle and looked around the Spartan room. It was more dilapidated than he remembered. _Probably due to most of his days and nights being spent in an alcoholic stupor _he admitted to himself.

Erik wasted no time after stowing away the few possessions he had brought with him, and he walked out into the hallway to the apartment at the end of the hall. He knocked loudly on the landlord's door. The Fasset family were a known band of thieves and ruffians, but they feared him enough to leave him be. They were not stupid people; they knew danger when they saw it. He would not be here at all if it were not for one member of the family whose help he needed. An eye hole was snapped open as someone looked through it cautiously, before deciding to admit their caller.

Moments later the door was opened and Madame Fasset stood there, fear tinged the greedy glaze of her eyes as she looked at Erik. He had paid them well in the past and the opportunity to be enriched was never lost on her. She wiped her hands on her grubby apron and looked at him expectantly.

"Monsieur we had thought you were not returning," she looked at him nervously with a toothless grin.

_More like hoped he would not_, he thought to himself. "Is Jean here?" asked Erik, dismissing the woman from his thoughts already.

A smallish youth of about thirteen years, made his way to the door. His cheeks smeared with dirt and his ragged clothing had seen better days. When Erik looked at the boy, he saw himself at that age. The lean desperate look to his features he knew well, but beneath the muck unlike him, this young boy had the face of an angel, with grimy blonde curls, mostly tucked beneath the cap he wore. He almost seemed out of place in this brutal surrounding. Bruises of different shades marred his forearms which bore witness of the life he lived.

Erik smiled at him, looking almost ghoulish behind the covering of his mask, but the young boy was the only one in this degenerated family that seemingly had no fear of him. He greased Madame Fasset's hand with a few francs and she shut the door on them, leaving them to talk in the hallway.

"I need your help little one, there is someone who is lost that I need to find. The name you are looking for is Raoul, Vicomte De Chagny. I would do it myself, but I fear you will cut a less obvious figure on the streets of Paris than I. Firstly I want you to go to where they are holding the war dead and see if he lies there, if not I am sure you know where to find the information I am seeking. Here are fifty francs for your troubles, tell your mother that I gave you forty," said Erik.

He knew any money that he gave the boy would end up in his parent's pockets to feed their varying addictions. He patted the boy on the shoulder and watched him leave, satisfied that the wheels had been set in motion and all there was to do was to wait for Jean's return.

* * *

Christine could not sleep. Her thoughts were haunted with images of both Erik and Raoul whenever she tried to. She held the rose that Erik had given her just before he had readied himself for the journey ahead. Its petals had already started to darken and wither at the edges, but while she kept it close it felt as if its owner was with her still, as she breathed in its fragrance. _She would always associate the smell of roses with him, if she lived to be a hundred years old. _She allowed herself a little smile at the thought.

She was surprised by a gentle knocking on her door.

"Christine, are you awake?" came Meg's voice.

"Yes, come in Meg,"

Meg entered the room and quietly closed the door behind her; Christine struggled to sit up in the bed. "I couldn't sleep and wondered if you would like some company,"

"Me neither, it's been a long day," sighed Christine.

"Where did you go earlier, was it to Erik?" asked Meg.

"Yes, it was, I asked him to do something for me, and he has gone,"

"What do you mean and what was it that you asked of him?"

"To bring Raoul back,"

Meg gasped at her words, before looking at Christine. "What if Raoul is still alive and he kills him? He has tried to before Christine. With Raoul dead there is nothing to stop him from having everything he desires…you,"

Christine shook her head. "No Meg, he will not kill Raoul…if he is alive. I trust him to fulfil his promise to bring him home,"

"And if he is living, what do you think will happen when Raoul finds out that you have been deceiving him with the phantom, that you may very well be carrying Erik's child, a child that should have been his,"

"I cannot think about that any more tonight, it will drive me to insanity Meg,"

"I am sorry Christine, I meant to come here to offer consolation and comfort, and I did not mean to pass judgment on you,"

"You cannot say anything that I have not already scorned myself for, a thousand times over. Come lie next to me and we will tell each other stories like we did when we were in the dorms together at night," Christine smiled at her.

* * *

Erik had been awake all night; he was tired, but could not sleep. He was still awaiting Jean's return. He got up from the chair he had been sitting in for many hours, debating whether to retire or not when there was a sharp knock on his door.

"Who is it?" he asked.

"Jean Fasset, monsieur, I have some news,"

Erik flung the door open and the boy walked inside, he eyed the half eaten loaf of bread that sat on the table, hungrily. Erik noticed where the boy's gaze rested. He tore off a chunk and flung it at him. He knew the pain of cold and hunger all too well. The boy devoured it greedily while Erik sat down and tapped a hand on his leg, barely reigning in his impatience to hear what news Jean had to depart to him.

"Well?" he asked.

The boy wiped his mouth across the back of his sleeve before beginning. "I asked in all the places you told me and a few you didn't. It seems they are still trying to locate the body. Quite embarrassed by it they are, losing a vicomte," He grinned, continuing. "After that the trail had grown cold, and then this cove grabs me in the street and wants to know why I am interested in the vicomte. Nearly shook me half to death he did,"

"What did he want?"

"Money, I had to give him all of what you had given me. Says he has heard something about where he might be. You know how after battles, thieves and robbers scour the fallen for money and possessions?"

"Yes, I am aware of it,"

"Well, it seems that a member of the DuPont gang might have him, their family cleaned up after the battle last evening. They make me and mine look like the blessed saints, but that's neither here nor there. Anyway, one of them was in a tavern late last night crowing about how he had picked the prize this time. He had found some aristocrat half dead. It sounds as if he was in the middle of relieving this gent of his worldly belongings, when he found his papers on him. Took him off over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes to his hideout,"

"For what purpose?" asked Erik.

The boy rubbed his nose. "Just my guessing monsieur, but I think he plans to ransom him off. A pretty sou could be earned from such a thing,"

"Where do I find these DuPont's?" asked Erik.

"Ah, now that's the rub, no one knows for sure, but rumour has it they inhabit the slums of Les Marais,"

Erik handed him a 100 franc note, "Find out the exact location and I will make it 500,"

The boy took the money offered. The DuPont's were not a gang to go up against, if he were found out, they would have no scruples in slitting his throat. But there would be a beating for him if it were discovered that he passed up the chance of making some money. _Maybe it would buy him some time from the sting of his father's belt_. His hand hesitated over the proffered money before he snatched it out of Erik's hand and tucked it under his cap.

"Leave it to me, I will have the information you want before nightfall," he grinned at Erik cheekily.

Erik hardly noticed the boy's exit as his thoughts wandered in the direction of Christine. He focused his attention back on where the child had been standing, mildly surprised to find himself alone again. He undressed and got into the bed, trying to get comfortable on the horsehair mattress he lay on. He closed his eyes and slowly drifted off knowing that rest was imperative, if he was to have his wits about him for the coming hours ahead.

* * *

Night was just falling as Jean returned, out of breath. He awoke Erik with the urgent knocking on his door. He quickly dressed before answering it.

"I have the information you were looking for," he gasped out of breath, as he told Erik the address of the DuPont's hideout.

Erik paid the boy and continued dressing himself. He put on his black cape and concealed his pistols and sword beneath it. He swapped his usual white mask for a black one and stepped out into gloom of the mutual hallway. He had gotten down several streets before he realised that Jean had been following him.

He turned around quickly, just as he saw the boy try to melt into the shadows. "Come out Jean, I know you are there," He watched as Jean slowly detached himself from the gloom and came forward. "What is your purpose in following me?" He asked him

"I thought to lend a hand monsieur, two pairs of hands are always better than one in a sticky situation," the boy smiled at him artlessly.

"Fine, but the first sign of trouble and you are to leave," warned Erik.

This young boy brought out feelings in him he's never thought himself capable of. _Maybe he would not make such a harsh father after all_, he mused. The thought warmed him for some reason as they made their way through the alleys together. As they ventured further into the Les Marais district, they encountered fewer people on the streets. It was as if the night had drawn an unspoken curfew on the area, where only the very stupid or the very criminally minded dare venture after dark.

Erik had no fear of this place, those that had nothing, feared nothing. He had Christine for sure, and the promise of a child, but for now they legally belonged to another. And by some madness he was here at the gates of a living hell to rescue the means of his despair and all at her command. For several moments a private battle raged within him, he could leave here and return home and pretend that none of this had happened and she would believe him. It was probably nothing more than a rumour and in all probability De Chagny was indeed lying dead somewhere and as of yet undiscovered.

The sound of breaking glass made him instantly wary. Jean motioned to him as he watched a man saunter along the street, weaving his way unsteadily, from the effects of too much wine or ale. The drunken man cursed loudly at the sight of his broken bottle smashed against the cobbled stones.

"Monsieur that is Philippe DuPont, quietly now, even under the effects of drink he is a dangerous man," whispered Jean.

Erik smiled a self-confident smile to himself; Jean obviously was unaware of the nature of the man he was with. It was time to disillusion the boy and acquaint him with his true self. He pulled a length of rope from his cape and advanced silently towards his intended prey and in seconds had it around the man's neck as he pulled him into the shadows and proceeded to strangle the life out of him. Erik sneered at the man as he visited death upon him like a dark angel.

As the man's body lie at his feet, he looked down at Jean and for the first time read a new respect for him, laced with fear in his gaze.

"How many more are there?" asked Erik.

"Well there is one less monsieur, but there are five brothers in total,"

They walked a few yards further until; Jean motioned for them to stop outside a foul looking building that could barely be called one. Erik looked around him. The rats roamed freely feeding on the stinking refuse that littered the streets; here only misery and despair were to be found. He could hear it in the hungry cries of children and see it in the dead eyes of women that sold their bodies on street corners.

"If we attack the DuPonts is there likely to be any resistance from the locals?"

"Non, they are feared and hated, even among their own class,"

"Before we storm their dwelling I need to know how many are within. Do you think you can arrange a diversion? And if the vicomte is not there then I will have just relieved the neighbourhood of five parasites and still all will be well with the world,"

"There will be only family inside, they trust no one and I can assure you that the man you seek will be inside also. The DuPonts never could resist the urge to boast about their deeds,"

Erik was taken aback as Jean picked up a large stone and hurtled it through the window of the DuPont house and ran off into the shadows.

"Is that diversion enough for you monsieur?" he grinned as he hid himself.

These thieves and murderers were only marginally smarter than they appeared; sending out just one brother to see who had dared to break their window. He was a large man, with beady eyes that combed the darkness. He held a pistol in his hand, as he walked unwittingly in Erik's direction. Erik slipped one of his daggers from his boot and weighed it in his hand before throwing it at the man, striking him deep in the chest. He only had a moment to register surprise before he fell forward onto the street. Erik took his victim's gun and wasted no time in concealing the body.

With the odds narrowed at three to two, he waited to see if they would send out another. Ten minutes passed before another man appeared at the doorway.

"Gaston, where are you?"

"Probably out screwing some tart if I know him," came the raucous laugh of another from within. "Our brother will be back. Come in, you are letting all the heat from the fire,"

Erik threw a pebble out into the street; it caught the man's attention. He instantly removed a large knife from his back pocket and advanced on Erik as he stepped out of the shadows to meet him. The man lunged himself at Erik and he easily sidestepped the man's clumsy attack. The other man was stronger than he looked, but he lacked in brains and Erik easily outmanoeuvred him several times, slashing him with his knife. The man fell to his knees, weakened by his injuries, he threw back his head about to call out, as Erik delivered the coup de grace and sliced through his throat, severing his vocal chords, and leaving him to fall in the street like the refuse he was.

Jean watched in horrified fascination at the deadly expertise of the man before him. Now only two men stood within Erik and his goal, he took out his pistols and advanced on the house.

"Jean go home, this is not your fight," Erik told him as he heard the boy follow him.

"Non monsieur, there is an honour even among our class; I will not leave you to go into the fight alone,"

Erik looked at the determined look in the boy's eyes, before sighing, knowing that demanding he leave would be pointless.

"Very well, you had better take this," said Erik, as he bent down to pick up the fallen man's knife, and handed it to him.

TBC


	14. Absolution

Chapter 14

Absolution

Erik glanced through the window at the scene before him. He could make out three people in the room. Two men were seated at a roughly made table playing cards and a third man lay on the floor, tightly bound and apparently unconscious. His hair covered his face, but Erik would have known that shoulder length blonde hair anywhere. For him to be bound must mean that he still lived, as the dead had no need of restraints. An overwhelming sense of disappointment flooded him at the idea that the Vicomte still lived. He could not lie to himself; he had hoped he would be recovering a body for Christine.

He looked across at Jean who stood the other side of the doorway and nodded his readiness to him. They charged into the room, in the hopes of taking their quarry by surprise. The DuPonts were more prepared for them than they had anticipated, as they both pulled out guns that were previously concealed under the table. Erik shot the pistol out of one of the man's hands, and struck him to the ground and levelled his gun at the other, but not before the man was able to get a round off, and as he tried to reload, Erik's fist connected with his face and knocked him unconscious.

"There Jean, that wasn't so bad was it? We make quite the team," said Erik.

He turned to face his accomplice, horror struck at the pathetic little figure doubled over on the floor. A dark river of blood flowed from under him, staining the floorboards in its path. He had seen much so bloodshed in his life and had even been the cause of it, but nothing had prepared him for this. Erik turned the boy over onto his back. Jean smiled up at him, his face deathly pale as his frame shook with pain. Erik peeled back the edges of his tattered shirt to inspect the wound. He cursed himself for allowing the boy to come with him; _he should have made him leave_.

"Am I done for?" asked Jean.

Erik looked at him, he considered lying to the boy about his injury, but he decided that he deserved to know the truth. He nodded at him, unable to voice the words.

Jean wheezed as he tried to catch his breath. "Tell me monsieur for I was never one much for church and all, but do you think there is a place in heaven for one such as me?"

"I don't know much about God or heaven Jean, but I do think there is a place that you go, where you will never feel cold or hungry…or pain again,"

Jean smiled at the idea. "If that is true, then I hope that is where I shall soon be,"

"Close your eyes, and when you next open them you will," said Erik quietly.

The boy took a few more shuddering gasps; he smiled at Erik and closed his eyes. "I can see it already monsieur,"

"You fought bravely tonight Jean, I was proud of you,"

Erik felt the boy's body go slack and gently laid him back on the floor. His hands were stained crimson with his blood, innocent blood. Erik fisted his hands together and roared an inhuman roar as he dragged one of the DuPont brothers up by the lapels of his jacket and struck him repeatedly, not even stopping as he heard his jaw crack. He poured all his anger and self-hate into the man, only stopping when his arms ached and he could not throw another punch. He threw him to the floor, bound both men up tightly, and left them there. One of the men regained consciousness and Erik took out his knife and held it to his throat.

"I will not kill you. I have spilt enough blood for one night, but I will let the Fassets know where to find their son's murderers. Let them deal with you,"

He strode over to the inert figure of the man in the corner; he grabbed a handful of his hair, and none too gently yanked his head back, to look on the face of Raoul De Chagny. He placed a finger on his neck to find a weak pulse beating at its base. He took a blanket from the bed and covered Jean's body reverently, before lifting the unconscious Vicomte and carrying him over his shoulder.

Only one or two people bothered to watch as the cloaked figure made his way from the DuPont house and disappeared into the darkness before going about their own business, for death and violence was a daily occurrence among them and was hardly worthy of their attention.

* * *

As Erik carried the Vicomte through the streets, although he was a weight, it was nothing to the one he carried in his heart as he finally experienced what it was to feel real remorse for the first time in his life. It hit him harder than he could have ever imagined. He would carry the pain of Jean's death inside him until the day he died, he knew that, and he welcomed it.

Erik stopped to catch his breath, putting Raoul down on the street. They were making slow progress and he would never make it back to his lodgings at this pace. He looked around for a means of transport. A tavern across the street caught his eye. Horses were often stored at such places for the patrons of the establishment. He propped Raoul up against some railings, to the casual observer in this gloom, he could pass for a drunken man. Erik left him and made quick work of the lock on the gates to the inn's courtyard.

The hour was late and all were in bed. He looked into the stable, and was relieved to find the night watchman asleep at his post. He crept inside and took a horse from its stall. He froze a couple of times as the man stirred in his sleep, but he safely managed to lead the horse into the courtyard without incidence. There was no time to saddle him, but at least he still wore a bridle.

He led the horse over to where Raoul lay, and clumsily hefted him over the back of the horse and mounted it. He arrived back at the lodgings, and left Raoul outside draped over the back of the stolen horse. He hastily packed his belongings and walked down the hall to the Fasset's door. Quietly slipping a hastily scrawled note along with all the money he had with him, under their door, informing them of their son's death and where they could find the DuPonts. He knew their justice would be swift and fitting to the crime. But his suffering would long outlive theirs.

* * *

He wasted no time in getting back on the horse and setting off for the De Chagny estate, wanting to be out of Paris long before the rising of the sun. He was tired in body and spirit, but the thought of Christine spurred him on. He would willingly die just to see her face and breathe in her scent at that moment. He dug his heels into the horse's side and took off at a gallop.

Paris was several miles behind him, before he stopped and let the horse rest. A low moan caught his attention as he looked at Raoul. The Vicomte stirred and raised his head, his eyes widened in surprise before he sank back into unconsciousness again. So Raoul had seen him, he was long past caring. The Vicomte's injury, although deep was not life threatening, but he was obviously weak from loss of blood, Erik did not anticipate any resistance from him for the remainder of their journey.

He walked back over to the horse, pulled one of his knives from his boot, and held it against the Vicomte's throat. Just one flick of his wrist would make Christine a widow. He sighed and concealed it again. When Christine came to him as she had promised, he did not want it to be by default, but because he was her choice.

Erik mounted the horse again and continued at a slower pace, stopping once more when they reached the point where he had hidden his horse. He had half expected it to be gone. But to his surprise, It was still where he had left it. He untied it and mounted it and grabbing the reins of the other horse he headed for home.

* * *

Erik had been gone two nights now, and for almost two nights she had been without sleep. She wrapped the shawl around her shoulders as she shivered in the predawn air. The sky was slowly turning lighter and the stars were fading. She walked out onto the balcony and down the stone steps, she had been afraid to sleep, keeping watch for her lover's safe return. _Had she been mad to risk his life on pure instinct? Should she do as the others had told her and accept that Raoul was not coming back? No she would not and she trusted Erik to return with her husband no matter what_.

Christine made her way across the grass; her slippers were instantly soaked in the early morning dew. From a distance she could make out a rider with two horses making his way slowly up the long drive to the house. Her heart lifted at the sight of him, she stood waiting for him to reach her, frustrated that she couldn't run to him. The breath caught in her throat as she saw he was not alone as she had at first feared.

Erik brought the horses to a stop and wearily dismounted his horse, stumbling slightly as he came towards her. Christine rushed to his side and put her arm around him.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"Nowhere that it would show," He replied. "Here is your husband Madame and he lives,"

Christine flushed guilty as he reminded her. She walked over to her husband's form, gasping at the dried blood that caked his shirt. She touched a hand to his forehead.

"He is burning up, help me get him to the house so I can send for the doctor," she asked.

Erik sighed and led the horse up the remainder of the drive.

"I have done as you asked. Let the servants take care of it, I need to rest,"

Christine went up on tiptoe, kissed his cheek, and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you Erik, I thank God for bringing you safely back to me, I will come to you later after the doctor has visited,"

Erik nodded at her curtly before mounting his horse and riding away. Christine was not sure if it was the overactive imaginings of her tired mind, but she had felt as if he had placed an invisible barrier between them. She rang for the servants to assist with her husband, informing them that a member of his regiment had found him and returned him to them. Only two other people knew better, Madame Giry and Meg.

* * *

It was much later before Christine was able to leave the house, the hour was close to midnight, but her obligations to Raoul kept her there. Madame Giry had also insisted that she get some rest, if not for her sake then, the sake of her child. She had found to her surprise that her that she fallen asleep almost as soon as her head had hit the pillow. It had been dark when she had awakened and she was feeling much improved for her rest.

The doctor had had some concerns about Raoul's rising temperature; he had cleaned his wounds and set him to rights as best as he was able. He still remained unconscious, which the doctor had explained, could possibly be to do with his fever. Doctor Vallaurio had left them some laudanum for any pain he might suffer, the sabre that had cut her husband had been deep; the doctor suspected some nerve damage as it had almost sliced through him to the bone. Only time would tell if he were to make a full recovery. Madame Giry sat with him now, bathing his forehead and keeping watch, so the little twinge of guilt that Christine felt in leaving him, was soon replaced by thoughts of Erik.

She made her way across the darkened park; the air was clean and crisp, her breath came out in white clouds in the cool night air. She held up the lantern that guided her way to him. The excitement coursed through her at the thought of their reunion. She had much to thank him for. As she neared the house, she could hear the sound of his piano. The tune was sad and mournful and made her sigh, the music that he played was often reflective of his frame of mind. She opened the door quietly and stood in silence until he had finished playing.

When he turned around, she was surprised to see tears in his eyes. Christine covered the space between them, placing the lantern down on the piano and she wrapped her arms around him. He breathed her in, deeply. She smelt so warm and fragrant that some of the horror of the last few days receded from his heart.

"Oh, Christine," his head rested against her stomach, feeling the new life within stir beneath his cheek only served to remind him of the young life that had been taken only hours before.

He stood up and brushed past her and walked into his bedroom, she followed him, confused at his actions. He was standing by the window, his anger, almost a tangible thing, in the way he held his body.

"Erik what is wrong," she asked.

He spun around to face her. "Everything and nothing,"

"I don't understand,"

He looked at her. "No you wouldn't. I once heard you say that I kill without a thought and murder all that's good. So, how can I expect you to understand?"

Christine flinched at his words, and flushed guiltily. "I was a green girl back then and I had no idea of you ever hearing those words,"

"In some ways you still are that innocent, Christine. If only you knew that there is nothing thoughtless about taking a life and I should know as I have taken many,"

Erik pulled back his sleeve to reveal her handkerchief; he untied it and threw it at her. She was horrified to see the blood upon it. She picked it up from where it had landed, on the bed.

"You were hurt?" she asked.

"Oh, it is not my blood," he sneered. "But the blood of an innocent used to purchase your husband's liberty. His name was Jean, and he was no more than a child,"

A shocked gasp left her lips as the handkerchief fell from her fingers as if it burned her. Erik took in the sudden pallor of her face and almost regretted his stark words. But he had to share his burden, for it weighed heavily on his soul.

"I am sorry," was all she could think to say. "I never thought…"

Erik strode towards her and gripped her arms. "Christine, you sent me out to become the very thing you loathe, a killer. And I have killed, and now these hands will never be clean again," he said, releasing her arms to hold his hands out to her.

She looked up at him, as the tears fell down her face, and she took his hands in hers. "Tell me what happened,"

Erik shook his head. "I can't, not now. Help me forget Christine, I need you," he pleaded.

She read the desperation in his eyes she decided not to press him further on the matter. She removed his mask and leaned up to kiss him. Their lips met hungrily and with passion, both of them eager to block out the ugliness, if only for a little while, and find refuge in each other's arms. He led her over to the bed and they sat there together.

His lips left hers to trail along her throat, his tongue teasing the pulse point at the base of her neck. Erik tore the front of her dress, paying little heed to the ruination of the rich fabric; he was in no mood to be gentle. She made no protest, giving him what she knew he needed. She welcomed the touch of his fingers as they slipped inside to cup her breast. He heard her catch her breath as he rubbed a fingertip across the sensitive bud, teasing it to hardness. Christine's hands moved lower to stroke him through the material of his black close fitting pants and he ground himself against her, making her aware of his need.

She drew back to lift his shirt over his head and run her fingers over his chest, touching the fine smattering of hair as she kissed her way down his body.

Erik closed his eyes, letting the feel of her lips on him blot out his pain. He thrust his fingers through her dark curls, his head thrown back, lost in the pleasure that she gave him.

He kissed her deeply. Her little cry of surprise lost in the depths of her mouth, as he rolled them both over and pulled her on top of him and joined their bodies together.

* * *

Christine sagged against him, limp and spent. She rained little kisses all over his face. "I love you so much, forgive me," she sobbed against his skin,

Erik looked at her, capturing her lips with his own, he pulled back his head and sighed. "There is nothing to forgive, just promise me that you will never stop loving me."

"While there is breath in my body, you will have my heart Erik. I suspect that even death would not end what lies in here," She touched her breast to make her point.

He smiled at her, the first real smile since his return, and he gently rolled her over and pulled her into his arms. As he looked at her, it saddened him to see that the innocence of her eyes was slowly fading, and he knew that he was in part responsible for its loss, _but it was better for to walk this world in knowledge than ignorance_, he reasoned.

"I love you Christine," he whispered before closing his eyes.

He prayed for dreams that would not include the sight of his blood-covered hands. Her even breathing at his side told him that she was already asleep. His hand rested on her stomach, feeling the babe move inside her again, this time it brought him only joy as he finally drifted off.

TBC


	15. The Rose

A/N Thanks to those that have read and reviewed. I promise KLP that Raoul will soon becoming a lot more involved in this story, but without giving it away...his thoughts will be delved into deeper.

Past The point of no return

The Rose

Chapter 15

When Erik awoke the next morning Christine was gone. He knew she would be, but still he felt the sting of disappointment at the loss of her presence. He had done as she had asked and brought Raoul back. All he waited now was the word from her and he could begin to make arrangements for them to leave this place. Happiness felt so close to being his that he felt that if he reached out a hand he could almost touch it.

A home and a family were all he had ever yearned for, and to share them with Christine. This had been his wish ever since she had bloomed into a beautiful young woman, and he had gone from teacher to ardent suitor. Then the fly in the ointment that was Raoul De Chagny had by some cruel quirk of fate become the patron at the opera populaire, crushing all his dreams with pretty talk of childhood adventures that would have best been left in the past. For they had aroused in Christine fond memories, which she had in her untried heart mistaken for love, a heart which had led them all to this moment in time. But the past was something that he had no control over, and he had long since accepted it as part of him and whatever lay ahead for him and Christine.

Raoul had seen him on that return journey home, only when he regained consciousness and good health would he know what was to become of that knowledge. Whatever that young fool wanted he would meet him willingly. His pride as a husband would demand satisfaction especially when he knew just how deep the deception went. Erik knew if he were Christine's lawful husband, he would kill the man that so much as dare touch her.

When he had first returned from Paris, he had almost wished Christine to Hades for what she had asked him to do, but no matter how much he tried he could never stay very angry at her for long. Hopefully she would realise the consequences of his actions and her part in them and never ask such a thing of him again.

He got up from the bed and walked over to the washstand and took a cloth and dipped it into the bowl of cold water and soaped himself. His thoughts turning once more to Christine, he had forgotten his pain for a while in her arms. Her sweet passion of the previous night had stirred him to new heights. Even now his body craved hers, he wondered if it were ever the same for her in their times apart. Now that her husband had returned it would not be so easy for her to leave the house without causing speculation among the staff.

No, she would have to play the dutiful wife and sit at her husband's side and smile at him and read him stories to keep him amused. Gone were those idyllic days which they would spend together at this house. Echoes of her laughter rang through his mind as he recalled those times when they would just lie together on the bed and look at each other. Not even touching, but feeling the invisible bond between them and touch and speech were unnecessary.

He threw the towel on the bed. It was then that he noticed the bloodstained handkerchief on the floor. He stooped down to pick it up, touching it reverently and letting out a sad sigh before he stowed it away in the bureau. Had it really only been two days ago that little Jean Fasset had lost his life for that useless fop? In his mind the boy had been worth ten of him.

As always there was nothing to be done, but wait until she returned to him. Such was his life, but a life without her seemed so much less palatable. Erik picked up his score sheets from the table and walked into the main room to sit at his piano. It was his refuge that filled the other need in his life, the need to create music.

* * *

Raoul had had a difficult night, he had sunk into a fever and there had been times when Madame Giry had feared for his life. With the first rays of morning sun, she had managed to get his temperature under control, but she was exhausted and her eyes ached from lack of sleep. She lifted the bedclothes to inspect his injury. The wound still looked red and angry, but at least it had not begun to putrefy as she had first thought it might. That he still slept was in his favour as the healing process would only be helped along by the added rest. She administered laudanum to him in the rare moments whenever he awoke from the pain, which had not been for a few hours.

She looked up from her charge as Christine entered the room. "Bonjour Madame," she greeted Christine wearily.

Christine walked over to the pale form of her husband that lay against the sheets. She stroked a damp tendril of hair from his sweat dampened face before looking back at the other woman.

"How is he?" asked Christine.

"He is well…now Madame,"

Christine sensed there was something Madame Giry was keeping from her, by the tight line of her mouth.

"What is it? Tell me," demanded Christine.

Madame Giry sighed. "In the early hours of this morning the fever almost took him…he cried out for you several times Christine and you were not there. It distressed him greatly, one of the servants had to restrain him, and then he sank back into oblivion and has not awoken since,"

Christine flushed guiltily. "I should have been here, but why did you not send Meg to come for me?"

Madame Giry nodded. "She was needed here and what is done is done; you would have been of little use if God had decided to take him,"

"But he needed me and I have failed him yet again," said Christine, covering her face with her hands.

Madame Giry walked over to Christine and peeled her hands away from her eyes and looked at her. "He lives and I think soon you will have to tell him Christine, about Erik. You must. I know I advised you against it, but there can be no other way. Give him back his life; give him back the chance to find happiness with another. I don't think he will ever feel for another woman what he feels with you, but he deserves peace, as do we all,"

Christine looked at Madame Giry. "Give him back his life so Meg can have him?" she snapped. "Oh yes I know of my friend's little infatuation with my husband,"

Madame Giry walked away from Christine and her face flushed with anger. "Meg does love your husband which is more than I can say for you. She has no designs on the vicomte. As soon as your baby is born she intends to leave,"

"Leave?" asked Christine, shocked.

"Oui Madame, she is going to Milan where I hope she lives a very happy life and can put all of this turmoil behind her,"

Christine was instantly contrite. "Forgive me," she said, instantly ashamed of her outburst. "I spoke out of turn; it's just the pressure of the last few days talking. I really am sorry,"

Madame Giry looked at Christine. "You are forgiven," she answered stiffly, before leaving the room.

Christine sat down in a chair beside her husband, her shoulders sagging in defeat. Madame Giry had accepted her apology, but she knew the sting of her hastily spoken words would not be so soon forgotten. She took Raoul's hand in hers; of course Madame Giry was right she had to tell Raoul, he deserved that much at least.

She was surprised as Raoul turned his head to look at her, his blue eyes clouded with pain.

"Christine," he breathed. "I had a peculiar dream," he winced as he tried to turn onto his side.

"You must not move. It could tear open your wound," Christine scolded him.

"Please, I need to tell you of my dream or whatever it was," he pleaded.

"I will only listen if you promise me not to move,"

Raoul closed his eyes as a fresh wave of pain coursed through him. Christine saw him whiten and reached for the bottle of laudanum by his bed.

"I don't want to take any of that, it makes me sleep," he groaned.

"Just a spoonful," she insisted.

"Very well," he submitted, as the gnawing pain in his back increased. He took the medicine and closed his eyes, soon drowsy. "I didn't tell you my dream," he mumbled.

"It will keep for another time now get some rest," she urged.

"But it was such a strange dream," he mumbled drowsily. "For I dreamt that I was saved by the phantom, but that's impossible isn't it," were his last words as he drifted off to sleep.

Christine's hand flew to her mouth in shock. She began to pace the room restlessly. _Had Raoul seen Erik on that return journey home and if he had, why hadn't Erik mentioned it? Of course it would have slipped his mind; he had been preoccupied with grieving for Jean to think about anything else_. Christine was angry at herself for her selfish thoughts. But she wanted nothing more than to go to Erik and find out if at any time during his rescue Raoul had regained consciousness.

She sat down in the uncomfortable bedside chair, for now she was needed here and here she would stay. Christine closed her eyes and settled down in the chair as best she could.

* * *

Erik had finally gone to bed in defeat. He had found no haven in his music as he had hoped. He had not even bothered to undress when he had earlier retired. He rose from the bed and made his way to the living room and lit a branch of candles to illuminate the dark room. He was surprised when he glanced at the clock on the mantle to find it was already midnight.

Disappointment lanced through him that she was not here. She had been later than this in the past, but for some reason he had a strange feeling that she would not come to him tonight. He sat in his chair in the silence and for the first time in a long time, the old feelings of loneliness that he had borne most of his life came back to haunt him tenfold. He opened the book that lay on the arm of the chair, discarded there several days ago before he had left for Paris. He began to read the words…

She walks in beauty, like the night  
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;  
And all that's best of dark and bright  
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:  
Thus mellowed to that tender light  
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,  
Had half impaired the nameless grace  
Which waves in every raven tress…

Erik threw the book across the room in angry frustration, everything reminded him of her. The music, her scent on his sheets, personal items of hers scattered about the room. It was like a living shrine to his love. He needed to see her, to feel her in his arms. He got up from the chair and shrugged on his cloak unable to bear a moment longer alone, in his illicit dwelling. He left the house and walked around to the back of it, to the shed where he kept his horse. Erik saddled him and rode off across the fields, welcoming the exhilaration of the ride. He rode the horse until they were atop a hill and he could look down on the De Chagny estate.

Light blazed from every window of the great house, standing out like a beacon across the pitch black of the night. Erik took ragged breaths to steady the violence of the emotions that ran through him. On impulse he spurred the horse on and rode towards the house, long past caring if he were discovered.

* * *

Christine stirred in the chair, her neck ached from the uncomfortable position she had lay in. She looked at Raoul, who still slept peacefully at her side. She slowly rose from the chair and stretched her stiff muscles to bring some life back into them. Her stomach rumbled reminding her that she had not eaten since that morning. The hour was late and most of the servants would be abed. She touched her hand to Raoul's forehead, happy that all was well with him, she left the room.

As she walked down the corridor a footman gave her a low bow as he went about extinguishing the candles for the night. The house was quiet and almost eerie, the silence broken only by the sound of her shoes on the parquet flooring. She passed through the main gallery, looking up at the De Chagny's of old. Sometimes it felt as if they were staring down at her accusingly for daring to taint the De Chagny name with her presence.

Christine shook off her fanciful thoughts and descended the main staircase and continued on her way to the kitchens. It was not a room she knew well and was grateful for the soft moonlight which illuminated the otherwise darkened room. She managed to find a candle and lit it. The tiny light offered very little radiance, but it was better than nothing. Christine gasped as a cat jumped off of one of the work surfaces and landed in her path.

She laughed at her foolishness, only to have the laughter die in her throat at the sight of a darkened figure standing in front of her. The candlestick almost slipped from her fingers.

"Christine,"

"Erik! What are you doing here? Are you mad?" she asked.

Erik pulled back the hood of his cape, tonight he wore no mask.

"Some say I am, yes, but only maybe where you are concerned," he said cynically.

"What if someone saw you?"

"I don't care anymore, Christine come away with me now. We can leave this place tonight and go somewhere where no one can ever find us or knows who we are," he pleaded.

Christine looked up at him. "I can't leave him, not while he needs me," she swallowed hard, hating herself at that moment.

"And what of my needs Christine? I need you with me, in my arms in my bed. Do you know the agonies I suffer when we are apart?" he growled.

Christine looked at him with pain filled eyes. "I know," she said quietly turning away from him.

Tears fell down her cheeks; she could no longer bear to see the pain in his face as she ran from the room as best she could, hampered by her swollen body. She took the stairs, resting only when she reached the top, breathless. She slowly continued on her way to her husband's room, all thoughts of finding a meal banished from her mind. She reached out a hand to open the door, only to have it grabbed by one encased in black leather. His grip was cruel as he spun her round to face him.

"Don't walk away from me," he hissed at her.

He pulled her towards him and kissed her lips roughly, forcing his tongue in her mouth. Christine fought against his violent onslaught of her body. As his hand touched her breast she felt herself respond to him against her will as their conflict changed tempo and he became gentle in his touch.

She pulled her lips away from his. "We can't" she breathed. "Raoul is only the other side of this door and the servants might…"

Erik cut her off with an impassioned kiss. She moaned low in her throat as he kissed her deeply, her arms crept up around his neck and she thrust her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer.

* * *

Raoul opened his eyes and looked around the room to find he was alone. Christine was nowhere to be found. Her shawl was left draped across the chair, by the bed. His throat was so dry and the water glass was out of his reach. He sat up in the bed slowly, mindful of his injury. After gritting his teeth he had managed to drag himself up into a sitting position and had swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He reached out to the water glass, almost feeling like Tantalus as still he could not quite touch it.

He froze as he heard a low moan; it came from outside his bedroom door. _What if it were Christine? She may have fallen_. The possibilities raced through his head as he pulled himself to his feet, the wound in his back burning a trail of fire along his flesh, but he ignored the pain and stumbled forward on unsteady feet. He could feel wetness trickle down his back, but as to whether it was blood or sweat, he cared not.

Almost to the door, he reached out for the handle to steady himself as he turned it. He looked out into the hallway, but it was empty only a few flickering candles lit the gloom. The fading scent of roses caught his nostrils as he turned to begin the arduous journey back to his bed, deciding it must have been the servants. As he turned something caught his eye and he looked down to find at his feet a single red rose with a black ribbon tied around its stem.

TBC

A/N The poem that Erik was reading just for the FYI of those who might want to know lol was "She walks in Beauty" By Byron. Thanks for reading and for the reviews of the previous chapter.


	16. Biding Time

Chapter 16

Biding time

He pulled her onto the bed with him, his tongue circling her lips slowly, teasing her before he plunged into the warm depths of her mouth. She quickly divested herself of her undergarments while Erik unbuttoned himself. Their coupling was swift having both been tantalised to the point of endurance in the hallway moments earlier.

As their need built, their movements became more desperate as their pace quickened, their fingers laced together as they took each other to the edge of sanity. Erik propped himself on his elbows never once slowing down and captured her lips in a kiss as they both cried out their release. Erik rested his head against her breasts until his breathing slowed. She wrapped her arms around him and tenderly kissed his hair, smiling as he lifted his head to look at her bathed in the silvery moonlight.

"The more I taste you, the more I need you. You are like a drug to my senses," he growled at her.

"It is the same for me, but you must not come to the house again,"

"Why? Because you almost let me take you against your husband's bedroom door?" Erik asked.

Christine flushed at the truth of his words, for if sense had not crept in at the last moment and she had not taken him to one of the many bedrooms, she would have let him do exactly that.

"Because it is not safe for you, the servants would shoot first and ask questions later if they caught you. Even you are not impervious to bullets Erik. I would have my child know its father,"

"Ah, but all bets are off on that account for you could carry the legitimate De Chagny heir my love. Maybe we should tarry here a while longer until the child's author is known,"

Christine lay in his arms and rested her head against his chest. "Thank you for understanding,"

Erik sighed. "What do you intend to do if the child is his?"

Christine swallowed back her tears. "Give the babe to him, and leave with you,"

Erik pulled back to stare at her in shock. "Abandon your child?" He knew the pain of maternal indifferenceall too well and it strangely struck at his heart to imagine such a fate for her infant.

Christine sat up, the tears falling down her face. "Don't you see? It's the only way, it would kill me, but I would do it for you and us,"

Erik swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and turned his back on her. If the child was De Chagny's then the viscomte had won for he would never ask such a price of her, but he knew that if they took the De Chagny heir with them they would always be looking over their shoulder for the rest of their lives and she knew it too. If the child was indeed her husband's, he would leave this place and never return. Erik got up from the bed and straightened his clothing, turning he held out a hand to Christine and she took it as he helped her from the bed.

"Come we had best get you back to your husband before he misses you. I will not come to the house again unless you ask me to," he promised.

They walked from the bedroom hand in hand and into the dimly lit hallway. Erik walked her to her husband's bedroom door and held both her hands in his as they stood before it, raising each one to his lips before releasing her.

"As always, until we next meet my love," he whispered in her ear, before striding off.

By the time she turned around he was gone as if an apparition of her mind, only the languid ache of her body bearing witness to his ever having been there. She turned back to open the door to her bedroom when she noticed the red rose. She slowly knelt to pick it up. _It must have fallen from his clock when they had been making love earlier._ The memories brought a soft blush to her cheeks at the remembrance of it. She held the rose behind her back and opened the door to the bedroom.

* * *

Earlier...

Raoul stared at the rose for several pain filled moments before he could move. He closed his eyes and opened them again, hoping it would be gone when he looked again. Still it lay there almost mocking him with its presence; he knew not how long he stood there as time had long since ceased to have meaning for him.

He heard the sound of muted voices and quickly closed the bedroom door to make his way back to his bed. The pain increased with each step as he neared his goal, fear of being discovered spurred him on. He almost sobbed with relief as he sat down on the bed and lay back against the cool sheets. After that he knew nothing as he welcomed the arms of unconsciousness, a blessed relief from the pain of his heart, which far outweighed the pain of his body.

When Christine entered the room, she sensed something was wrong, from the dark spots of blood that stained the white carpet by the bedside to the still white form on the bed. She rushed over to the bed to try and rouse him, he was pale and unresponsive. In her panic she rang the bell and Madame Giry appeared several moments later dressed in her nightgown and shawl.

"What is it?" she enquired.

"I left the room for a moment to get something to eat, when I returned I found this," Christine pointed to the blood. "I cannot wake him,"

Madame Giry put down the lamp she held and went over to the bed, feeling his neck for a pulse. "I think he may have tried to leave the bed and re-opened his wound. Let me see to him, it might be better if you slept in another room for tonight Madame,"

"I wish to stay," said Christine, watching as Madame Giry bathed and re-dressed his wounds.

"As you wish,"

Christine flushed uncomfortably as she noticed that Madame Giry was staring at her hands, she looked down to see she was still holding her rose.

Raoul awoke to find Christine lying by his side. He smiled for a moment at the perfect picture of innocence she presented before the memories of the night before came flooding back to him. He watched her as she slept; her dark lashes fanning her cheeks, a faint smile curved her lips as if enjoying a happy dream. His eyes moved lower to the arm that draped across the swell of her belly protectively. How such innocence could shield such a black heart, he wondered.

There were so many questions he needed answers to, but for now he would bide his time. How deep did her deception go? Were she and Erik lovers or was he still just her tutor, and the most painful thing that he hardly dare entertain, was it even his child she bore? He was going mad not knowing, but he would bite his tongue and play the happy cuckolded husband for now until he knew what he was up against. The important thing was that he not betray himself to her.

Christine opened her eyes to see a pair of blue ones watching her, she saw a shadow cross his face for a moment, so fleeting that she was sure she must have imagined it.

She held out a hand to him and he kissed it. "Raoul," she sighed. "Did you try to get out of bed last night?"

"No, I am embarrassed to say that fell out of the bed would be nearer to the truth. Where did you disappear to last night?"

"I went down to the kitchens for but a moment, I am so sorry that I was not here when you awoke,"

Raoul's heart hardened at the tell tale blush that highlighted her cheeks. He reached out a hand to brush away a curl and tuck it behind her ear.

"I missed you so when I was away, I thought that I might die and never see your sweet face again. Obviously God has spared me for a reason mignon. Who do I have to thank for my life?"

"Someone from your regiment brought you back not two nights past,"

"Who?" he pressed.

"Etienne Ravenaux," Said Christine, blurting out the first feasable name that poppedinto her head of someone he had mentioned in passing and would be unlikely to visit.

"Ah, good old Etienne, what a shame I cannot thank him," said Raoul. Good old Etienne indeed, he thought, his heart breaking anew. For the comrade in arms had fallen the night before he had done, blown up by enemy cannon fire.

"I love you Christine," he smiled

She placed a hand over his. "I love you too Raoul,"

Was it just his overactive imagination that the words sounded false to his ears, but he would not be her judge jury or executioner until he knew for sure. He could finally understand the madness that had driven Othello to snuff out Desdemona's life that bear the thought of her with another. But Desdemona has been innocent of her crimes, his wife, he was not so sure of. He had seen first hand the passion that existed between his wife and her mentor, the desire had hung heavy on the air that night on the stage, so much that it had made him weep.

"Would you read to me?" he asked.

She was surprised by his request, but rose from the bed and sat in the chair. He turned his head to look at her as she went through the pages of the book. As her voice filled the room he closed his eyes, yes things would continue as normal and he prayed to God he was wrong.

* * *

The days and weeks that followed settled into a comfortable pattern, Raoul grew in health and strength fully able to sit up in bed with little or no pain. When Christine was absent he would use the dressing table chair as support while he practised walking up and down the length of the room, something that he kept secret from her and Madame Giry. Some nights Christine would be there at his side, sleeping. Other nights she was notably absent and always ready with a quick excuse for those absences when he enquired.

What did she do in her time away from him? Images tortured his mind of her lying in twisted sheets writhing in ecstasy while that monster pawed at her body. He must have used some drug or other to seduce her, Madame Giry had said he was a practised magician, for he could not imagine the woman he loved capitulating to such a man willingly.

She was now at least eight and a half months gone in her pregnancy and she looked beautiful to him even though his heart railed against it. Sometimes when the child would kick he would place his hands on her belly to feel it move within her. Then he would hide his hands beneath the sheets as they curled into impotent fists, holding in his rage and despair.

He was recovered enough in strength for what he finally intended to do that very night. Unable to wait no longer, he would follow her to see where she went. As the day faded and twilight fell he dressed himself and put his nightshirt on again. He got back into bed, pulling the covers high over him and feigning sleep. Christine came into the room, followed by Madam Giry with a tray laden with his supper. He pretended to wake and sat up.

"Hello, are you hungry?" Christine asked him, removing the silver covers from the plate.

She sat next to him and took the knife and fork and cut up his dinner for him. Raoul took the fork from her, every mouthful that passed his lips tasted as appetising at sawdust to him as he regarded her beneath lowered eyelids. Christine reached out a hand to stroke his face, smiling sweetly at him.

"Will you be alright on your own for an hour or two Raoul? I have few things to take care of to do with the household. Meg can come and keep you company if you like?"

"Thank you, but no, I think I will have an early night,"

Christine wiped at his lips with a napkin and walked over to the bedside table and took the bottle of laudanum from it and poured some onto a spoon and Raoul opened his mouth and took the medicine and lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes.

Christine placed a swift kiss on his lips and exited the room with Madame Giry. After she had gone he sat back up in the bed and took his water glass and spat the sedative into it. He got up from the bed and took a black hat and cape from his wardrobe and exited through the balcony doors and melted into the shadows to wait.

Time seemed to drag for him. He must have been there for all of two hours and on the point of giving up and deciding to return to his room, when he saw the glow of a lantern making its way slowly across the park. He sucked in a breath and begun to follow the light at a slower pace. He hissed as he trod on a twig and as she turned he threw himself to the ground and stayed there until she carried on walking to where he knew not.

He was further confused when she disappeared into the copse of trees, until he saw the old abandoned summer house he had not visited since he had been a boy. He hid behind a tree as she stopped at the house and knocked three times before entering. The door was flung open by the Phantom; it was the final nail to the coffin as Raoul watched him take her in his arms and kissed her passionately. Christine returned his kisses with equal ardour, Raoul closed his eyes against the sight, unable to bear it any longer, but still unable to flee. The door closed and he ventured closer to the house looking in through the gaps in the shutters watching as they walked through into the next room.

He followed them, peering into the windows of the next room, it was dimly lit, but he could still make out their shapes as they kissed and slowly disrobed. He continued to watch as the phantom laid his wife down on the bed and kissed his way down her body. Christine's cry of pure pleasure broke through Raoul's shocked senses; he stuffed a fist into his mouth to stop himself from crying out in pain as he turned his eyes away from the sight of the lovers.

Raoul made his way back to his bedroom in defeat, stumbling several times in his blind rush to get to the sanctuary of his bedroom.

TBC


	17. Expected Company

Expected Company

Chapter 17

Raoul awoke the next morning, his head ached and his eyelids felt as if sand lie behind them. Sometime in the night an unknown person had cleared the remnants of his destruction away. The room looked as if nothing untoward had ever occurred in it. He turned, as he became aware of the presence in the bed. He was surprised to see Christine lying next to him as she slept soundly like one who had had little sleep. The memories of the previous evening came rushing back to him, hitting him in the chest like a hammer blow.

He reached out a hand to stroke her soft cheek. "Oh Christine," he sighed.

Unable to bear the sight of her for a moment longer he turned over on his side and stared at the silk covered walls, preferring their company to his disloyal Bride's. _Oh, how his friends had tried to talk him out of marrying her when he had first made his intentions known_. They had deemed the ex-showgirl only fit for a tumble, or maybe a mistress, but certainly not wife material. For the first time he wondered if they had had the right of it.

He turned back to look at her, he reached out to touch her stomach_. How the phantom must have laughed at his conquest of his wife. Did she even try to resist his seduction of her without a struggle? Or did he call and she lay on her back for him the moment he asked her to? Had she ever really loved him?_ Last night he had watched as she had opened herself to the phantom like any practised whore, revelling in his touch. If he closed his eyes he could see her head lying against the pillows, while her monstrous lover touched her body intimately.

Raoul's hands curled into fists at the thought of them together. A red haze of anger and pain settled over him as he pulled back the covers to expose his wife's body to his gaze. He thrust a hand under the hem of her nightgown, roughly caressing her thighs with cruel fingers that bit into the tender flesh. Christine awoke, her eyes widened with shock as she tried to push his hands away.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Taking a husband's rights. Surely you will not deny me that. What is the matter my love? Don't you want me to touch you?" he asked.

Christine did not know this cruel stranger in her bed and he frightened her. She struggled to close her legs and pull down her nightgown as he knelt between them.

"Raoul, please no, the baby," she begged.

Her words had the desired effect on Raoul as all the fight went out of him and he got off the bed and walked over to the window. He pulled back the curtains and stared out onto the park. His gaze followed the copse of trees in the distance. He could hear the faint sound of Christine sobbing into her pillow and he hated himself at that moment for what he had almost done to her. He had allowed himself to become the very monster he loathed.

He walked away from the window and went to his wardrobe and began to dress himself, afraid of what he might do if left alone with her for a moment longer.

Christine heard his movements and raised her tearstained face in shock as she realised for the first time that he could walk. She wiped at her eyes and sat up in the bed and watched him while he dressed, afraid to speak.

When he had buttoned up his waistcoat he glanced her way before shrugging on his jacket. "Yes my love I can walk, I was saving it as a surprise for your birthday next week, but now you know," he said coldly.

At Christine's continued silence he turned around to look at her properly for the first time since he tried to assault her. The distress on her face almost moved him until the images of her wanton behaviour the night before reminded him of her treachery. She was a consummate actress, he may have let his temper get the better of him on this occasion, but he would not allow it to happen again. He walked towards her and she flinched noticeably as he advanced on her.

"Christine, you have nothing to fear from me. I have no excuses for my earlier behaviour, all I can do is beg your forgiveness," he illustrated his point by going down on one knee before her.

Christine looked at him searching his face, but seeing only concern and regret on his features she nodded her answer, not trusting herself to speak for a few moments.

"I forgive you Raoul," she said softly.

His hands curled resentfully for a moment, before leaning across her to place a kiss on her lips, she turned her head at the last moment and his mouth made contact with her cheek instead. Raoul pulled away and got to his feet.

"I will be in the study if you need me, I have much estate business to catch up on. Being bedridden these last few weeks has put me hopelessly behind,"

"Shall I ask a cook to set you a place for luncheon?" she asked, finding a haven in the mundane.

"No, that shall not be necessary I will dine in my study," he touched her cheek and walked from the room.

* * *

It wasn't until Raoul had left, that she felt she could finally breathe again. _What had caused him to behave so?_ Christine paled as a thought occurred to her. She took the key from the locket around her neck and hastily opened her bureau drawer. She sagged in relief as everything appeared untouched and how she had last left it. She locked it back up and suddenly feeling very tired she lay back against the sheets. _Maybe Raoul was just reacting from the trauma of the battle?_ She had heard stories of how it could change a man, and even the seemingly most gentle of men beyond all recognition. A fear crept into her heart, which would not leave her, a fear that in some way he had discovered her secret.

If Raoul had violated her as he had almost done, he would not have been able to live with himself. She closed her eyes in an attempt to get some rest. Sleep was so much harder to come by now that she was almost ready to bear her child. No matter how she lay, she could not get comfortable. With a heavy sigh she rang the bell. Charlotte arrived breathless moments later, to assist her with dressing.

"Madame you are well?" asked Charlotte as she noticed her mistress's tearstained face.

"I am well thank you," Christine's lip trembled and she broke down, no longer able to pretend.

Charlotte throwing all servant, mistress propriety to the wind walked over to Christine and wrapped her arms around her while she let out her tears. She stroked Christine's hair.

"There Madame it is common for ladies to be emotional in your condition. My older sister had a babe last year and she was always crying over something,"

Christine smiled up at her maid through her tears. "Thank you Charlotte,"

For the first time Christine wished she had not made Erik promise to make no more visits to the house. She needed to feel his arms around her, telling her that everything would be fine and that they would get their happy ending. She needed to believe, for at that moment all she could see before her was heartache and misery.

"My husband is in the study?" she asked.

"Yes Madame he gave strict instructions not to be disturbed for anything,"

"And Meg?" asked Christine.

"She is in her mother's apartments,"

"Good, help me dress Charlotte, something warm and suitable for walking,"

* * *

Raoul paced the floor of his oak panelled study. His desk was scattered with papers and personal correspondences, but try as he might, he could not apply his mind to the tasks that needed his attention. He looked a strange sight from his usually well-groomed self and his hair was in wild disarray from the amount of times he had raked his fingers through it. Raoul walked back over to the desk and sat back behind it and laid his head on it's surface and stared out into the garden that he could see from his window.

A flash of petal pink caught his eye as he saw the skirts of a lady as she passed the window. At first he had thought it was Christine. As he strode over to the window and looked out, but he saw Meg as she leisurely took a walk. She turned as if knowing she was being watched and she turned to smile at whoever it was. The smile faded to surprise at the unexpected sight of the Vicomte, also taking in the fact that he was on his feet. After the initial shock had begun to fade, she noted the wildness of his appearance, the crumpled shirt and untidy hair.

Raoul opened the patio doors and walked out to meet her. _She must have shared in her friend's deception. How sweetly she smiles at me. _He thought to himself. _She had to have known, Meg is her closest friend and confidante._

"Vicomte this is a surprise. You can walk," said Meg.

"I have had use of my legs for some time now," he informed her.

Meg felt the hairs at the nape of her neck, prickle at his statement. _Why would he wish to hide the fact? _She had come to visit with him and Christine in his boudoir only the day before and he had made all pretence of still being in an invalided state on that occasion.

"Please call me Raoul, I think we have been acquaintances of long enough standing to use first names Meg," he smiled at her a smile that did not reach to his eyes. "I can tell you are curious as to why I would hide the fact that I am able to walk again,"

"Maybe just a little Raoul," she blushed.

"As you are aware it is my wife's birthday next week, I was saving it as a surprise for her, but circumstances were such that she has found me out, and secrets between a husband and wife are never a good thing. Wouldn't you agree Meg?"

Meg nodded uncertainly and he continued.

"Good, now we have got that out of the way, as Christine's friend I think I should tell you that I am concerned about her,"

Meg frowned. "In what way? She is not unwell monsieur?"

"No, Christine is well, but I was more interested in how she spends her day,"

"Why most of the time she is with me, I am her companion. Not just because I am paid to be, but because she is like a sister to me,"

"Hmm, and sisters often share many things do they not?" asked Raoul.

"I-I suppose so,"

"You would tell me if there was _anything_ that I would need to be concerned about as your employer and Christine's husband?"

"Oui, but there is nothing to tell. I think I will go find my mother, she will be wondering where I have gotten to," said Meg.

Raoul's expression hardened at her obvious unease. _She knew! And had no doubt been covering for his wife's indiscretions. _The guilt was written plainly on her face for him to read as she avoided his eyes. As she made to pass him, his arm snaked out and caught hers in a tight grip.

"You wouldn't lie to me Meg?" he asked.

Meg's face flushed angrily at his accusations as she pulled her arm out of his grasp. "I do not know what you are alluding to _Vicomte_, but do not insult me in this manner again or I might be forced to reconsider my position in this household," she snapped before walking off.

By the time that Meg had made it to her mother's apartments she was almost in tears. The customarily gentle Vicomte had frightened her. There was a new hardness and a purpose to him that she had not seen before.

* * *

As she entered her mother's apartments she was surprised to see Christine there, seated in one of the chairs in the living room. From the distress in her friend's eyes she could see that she had been crying. _Maybe it was this cursed place that drew the very soul from all who lived here_ she wondered.

"Christine, what is wrong?" asked Meg.

Christine remained silent and looked away, studying the pattern on the hearthrug.

Madame Giry returned from her kitchen. "I do not know child, for she will not tell me," she sighed, looking at her daughter for the first time and noting her pallor. "Are you unwell Meg, you look so wan,"

"Um, no, there was something in the garden that disagreed with me that is all,"

Her mother frowned at her. "So many gloomy faces today, why don't you take Christine for a walk? I have things that I need to attend to,"

Madame Giry hovered for a moment, as she wondered if she should mention the broken figurines in Christine's bedroom, but had far too many things to do all day and decided against worrying Christine with the news. She left her apartments to attend to the busy household.

Christine spoke for the first time. "I should like that," her voice coming out in a pained whisper.

Meg held out a hand to help her friend to her feet and the two women exited the apartments by her mother's private door so as not to alert the household of their leaving.

It was not until they were free of the house did either of them feel as if they could breathe again.

"Now will you tell me what you could not tell mama?" asked Meg.

Christine looked at the grass beneath her feet before glancing up at her friend. "It was Raoul, h-he tried to force his attentions on me," she finished in a rush. "But he didn't," she added.

Meg wrapped her arms around her friend. "Oh Christine, I must tell you that I ran into your husband this morning before I arrived at my mother's apartments and he behaved very strangely. Do you think there is any chance that he knows your secret?" she asked.

"No it is impossible, I may not have always been as careful as I might…if he knew he would tell me, I am sure of it,"

"But then why conceal the fact that he has use of his legs,"

"He said he was keeping it as a surprise for my birthday,"

Meg sighed, "He told me the same thing. Did you go to Erik last night by any chance?"

"Yes, but I made sure that he was asleep before I left and he had taken a dose of laudanum too and I was back in our bed before he awoke. I think that maybe he is suffering from the horrors of what he saw in battle. The reports of it were truly horrific, but I saw a side of him this morning that I could never imagine existed. It reminded me of a warning that Erik once gave me about the evil that even the best of men can do in the name of love," said Christine as she nibbled at her lip.

Meg nodded vaguely, wishing to change the subject. "Anywhere in particular you would like to walk to this beautiful morning?" she asked.

"Need you ask?"

* * *

The girls giggled, momentarily forgetting their concerns as they headed out across the park, while unbeknownst to them Raoul watched from his bedroom window.

Erik was surprised from his reverie at the sound of three knocks on his door. A smile played at his lips, for it was Christine's secret code to let him know that it was she on the other side. He put down his fountain pen and closed the lid of the piano as he went to answer the door.

When he opened it Christine stood there. Her eyes lit up at the sight of him, and he took her in his arms and kissed her. When they parted, both were breathless and he led her over to his chair and insisted that she take rest.

"As overjoyed as I am to see you, should you be risking a visit in the daylight hours?"

Christine struggled to get to her feet. "I am sorry for the imposition and will return to the house,"

Erik frowned at her. "What has occurred?" he demanded.

"I needed to see you," her bottom lip trembled as she fought back the tears that threatened to fall.

Erik went to her and knelt on the floor and took her in his arms. They felt strong and safe and warm to her, she pulled back to look at him.

"Christine won't you please tell me what is wrong?" he asked gently.

The love she saw shining in his eyes for her made her heart skip a beat as she smiled weakly at him. "I am well and so is our babe. Just hold me Erik please,"

He took her in his arms again as they held on to each other in the silence of the room, her sitting and he kneeling. Christine wished they could stay like this forever, but time and reason intruded once more as they regretfully parted, each feeling the loss of each others embrace. He stood and held out a hand to help her to rise from her seat.

Erik held her once more, one of his hands resting on the obvious swell of her belly.

"Not much longer my love and our child will be born and then we can leave this place,"

Why didn't I just leave months ago?" she asked him.

"Because you were scared," He sighed before continuing. "I hope it is a daughter with beautiful eyes like her mother,"

"I am hoping for a son I would have you know and one that looks like its father,"

Erik stiffened in her arms. "Then you had better hope it is the Vicomte's for I would not wish such a curse on any child of mine," he said bitterly.

"Oh Erik, why must you always take umbrage. I love you for who you are not your appearance. When I look at you I see only the face of the man I love,"

She raised herself on tiptoe to press a swift kiss on his lips and then she was gone. Erik went back to the piano to continue working on his composition, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth as he sat down at the stool. He smiled anew as he heard the sound of three knocks on the door again. _No doubt she had forgotten her gloves or some such nonsense. _He thought to himself.

He walked over to the door and opened it. "What did you forget…now," He stopped as he looked into the blue eyes of the Vicomte De Chagny. "Good day Vicomte I must admit that I had expected you long before now. Won't you come in?" Challenged Erik, as he opened the door wider.

TBC


	18. A matter of honour

A/U Thanks every one for the great reviews. Klp sometimes finding out what those who we love are capable ofcan sometimes be the most shocking of all.

A matter of honour

Chapter 18

The Vicomte looked at him for several seconds before entering the house. Erik could see a flicker of fear in his eyes as the other man looked at him. The idea made him smile a little to himself. Raoul entered the living room and Erik closed the door and turned around to face him.

"Please have a seat. I promise not to squeeze the life out of you…yet," he said wryly, reminding the Vicomte of their last encounter.

"I prefer to stand," said Raoul, his fists curled at his sides as he struggled to keep control of the rage that boiled inside of him. He took a couple of deep steadying breaths to bring some sense of composure to the violence of his emotions.

Erik walked over to the chair and sat down, feeling in no way intimidated by the Vicomte looming over him.

"I should have you run off my land or set the authorities on you. You are a wanted murderer,"

"You would not live long enough to tell the tale monsieur," said Erik, his tone quietly menacing while studying his nails in boredom.

"I want to kill you for what you have done to my Christine," snarled Raoul.

"What exactly have I done?" asked Erik, his countenance a picture of innocence.

"You have seduced an innocent girl is what you have done,"

"And she enjoyed every moment of it. She is a very apt pupil in my bed and out of it," Erik laughed at him mockingly. "I presume that you just didn't hold her interest after all,"

"You are an evil monster,"

"Christine does not seem to object to my proclivities. She is a _very _giving young woman. Who would have guessed such sensuousness lay behind that innocent exterior," Erik licked his lips to make his point.

Raoul could take it no more, he lunged at Erik and wrestled him to the floor, taking the phantom off guard for a moment and landing him a couple of punches before Erik got him around the throat and pressed down on his windpipe. Raoul fought against his grip like a fish out of water, Erik being the stronger of the two, kept his hold on him easily.

"I wonder how much pressure I would need to apply to end your worthless life. Hear this Vicomte, and listen well. Christine and I are in love and would have been together long before now if you hadn't shown up at the opera house and wooed her with your pretty words,"

Raoul felt dark spots form behind his eyes as Erik continued to crush as his throat. He clawed at the phantom's fingers in a vain attempt to free himself. Just as he thought he had breathed his last, Erik released him and he lay on the floor gasping for breath.

"Why didn't you kill me? It was you who brought me back from Paris, wasn't it?" asked Raoul hoarsely, as he finally found his voice.

"I did it because Christine asked it of me. I would have been happy to leave you there to rot. Be glad I am in a good humour today and have let you live. Enough blood has already been spilt for you. I am in no mood to spill more," said Erik as he stood up and regarded Raoul, as he was a speck of annoying dirt on the rug.

Raoul slowly got to his feet while Erik sat back down and watched him while dusting off his trousers in a laid-back manner that only served to inflame Raoul's temper. He was wise enough to not attempt to attack the phantom again, putting his hands behind his back as he looked at Erik

"I demand satisfaction Monsieur," Raoul announced.

Erik nodded at him thoughtfully. "I wondered when you would get around to the matter at hand. But I must say I am not surprised by your demands, if your dogged resilience in the past is anything to go by. Are you really so anxious to meet your maker, boy?"

Raoul walked forward, struck Erik hard across the cheek."You have been challenged and shall take up my challenge unless you wish to appear a coward. If you have no second, which I doubt you do, then I will find one for you. Two days from now, I will expect you to meet me at the edge of this copse at dawn, and if I were you I would be the one getting prepared to meet my maker, which in your case would be the devil himself,"

The tightening of Erik's fingers on the arm of the chair was the only indication to the emotions that were running through him at that moment. He turned towards the Vicomte, but his face betrayed not one flicker of what he was feeling as he eyed him coldly.

"If I accept your challenge and I am the victor, what will be your terms?" He asked unemotionally, before looking away into the dying embers in the hearth.

"If you win and I am still alive, I will allow you to leave here with my wife, but my child I shall keep," said Raoul

"I am sorry to disillusion you in anyway dear Vicomte, but the child that she carries is most likely to be mine. I either take them all or nothing,"

"The child by law will be mine, no matter who its maker is. You want Christine and the babe? Then you had best make sure that you kill me, for it would only be over my dead body that I would let you take it,"

"It would be my pleasure," said Erik. Already dismissing Raoul from his thoughts.

"And if you are not there to meet me for the duel, I will send by a dispatch rider a letter to the chief of police instructing him of your whereabouts,"

"Do not fret Vicomte for I will be there. I happen to think that Christine is worth the fighting for. If she were my wife, I would have had no trouble keeping her. Are you sure that you are not the one who is lacking in courage?" he added.

Raoul, walking towards the door, paused briefly before exiting the house, leaving Erik to his thoughts. He sighed heavily, as usual Christine had been her naïve self and had thought that this day could be in some way avoidable. He had known it would come. From the moment he took her into his bed and made her his. He would meet the Vicomte, but he would do all he could to protect Christine from what was to happen if he could. She was so close to the birth of her child, the thought saddened him. For in two days he could be dead and would never know if her child was his.

Although Erik was confident in his skills of combat, he knew that all it would take was one lucky shot on Raoul's part and it would all be over. The thought tore him in half that it came at a time in his life when he had finally realised that he loved it.

* * *

Raoul watched the women walk back to the house and set out after them at a slower pace, keeping to whatever cover he could find, so as not to alert them of his presence.

When they entered the house he, slipped around the side and re-entered it though the windows of his study. He had just seated himself behind the desk, when a knock sounded on the door. He looked up as Christine peered cautiously around the edge of the doorframe. He read the fear in her eyes and hated himself for putting it there.

"Come in," he encouraged warmly.

Christine smiled in relief at his wholehearted greeting as she entered the room and closed the door.

"I came to see how you were feeling," she said as she took one of the chairs across from where he sat.

Raoul sighed and looked at her in awkward embarrassment.

"It is I who should be asking after you, but I was too ashamed to come to you after what I almost did to you this morning,"

Raoul realised that he meant it. No matter how angry he felt towards her, she had in no way deserved the disgusting attack he had visited upon her person. She might seem ready to forgive him for whatever demons had driven him to behave that way, but he was in no mind to forgive himself.

"Please, I don't want to talk about it," said Christine, struggling to keep the pain out of her voice.

"I wonder that you can even bear to be in the room with such as monster,"

"Raoul, you are not a monster, just a man," she replied, looking out towards the window.

"But I could have hurt you, really hurt you,"

"But you didn't. I cannot pretend that it has not affected things between us…but hopefully we can work on mending that hurt, given time,"

Raoul bristled angrily at the emotion her innocent words stirred within him. _She dared to mention that they try to work out their problems while she sat there carrying another's child having only lain in his arms the night before? Moreover, she questioned his morals. Whatever the outcome of his duel with the phantom, he would get his man of business to alter his will making sure that she and her lover would not profit from his death. _

_R_aoul nodded at her vaguely before answering. "Yes of course my dear. I have to leave you for a few hours; I am hopelessly behind in my dealings. I am going to visit Monsieur Philippe in the village,"

"Your lawyer?" She frowned. "Do you think it wise? It is your first day out of the sick room,"

"I am well enough. All those weeks of sitting in bed, I find I have plenty of excess energy. What with cook's excellent food and all, I am in grave danger of growing fat,"

Christine smiled. "I seriously doubt that will ever happen,"

He looked at her sadly. "Ah, but I am slowly discovering that life rarely turns out how one expects or wishes it to,"

"That is true. So, I am to be left to my own devices for the rest of the day?" she asked.

"I think being so close to our…child's," he almost choked on the word before continuing "birth, that it would be unwise for you to accompany me,"

"I am sure I can find something to occupy my time until your return," she smiled at him sweetly.

Raoul got up from behind the desk and walked over to her side. "Of that I am certain, my love," he kissed the top of her head and exited the study.

* * *

Christine did not want to move for several moments, bathing in the warm sun that shone in through the study windows. She closed her eyes for a moment, Erik's face entered her mind, and she smiled to herself, her heart full with love for him. She sighed and opened them again as she thought of the cruel injustice she had done her husband. She did love him, but it was a pale shadow to the love that she bore Erik.

Christine got up from the chair, much of her natural grace gone for the time, with the weighty burden of her unborn child. A burden that she cherished, a little smile played at her lips when she thought of how soon she would be able to hold the physical proof of her and Erik's love in her arms. Her hands rested on her stomach as she made her way over to her husband's desk to see what he had been working on.

_Maybe there was something that she could assist him with_, she mused as she sat behind the desk and picked up some of the letters from its surface. As she scanned through the correspondence, she found several invitations to up and coming dinners and parties being held by their neighbours. She took the fountain pen from the desk holder to reply to them, finding the inkwell empty she searched the drawers for a fresh bottle. As she opened one, a newspaper clipping caught her attention.

She took it out and read it slowly, realising it was a list of his comrades at arms. From the date at the top of the page, it was several weeks old. Christine felt the blood drain from her face as she read the names on it. **_Etienne Ravenaux_** She read the date of his death. It was a whole day before Erik had gone to save him from the gang that were going to hold him to ransom. She crushed the piece of paper in her hands tightly. _He must know, it would explain everything. _It all made sense, from the violence of his attack on her, to his concealing the state of his health.

Erik had finally poured the whole story out to her in the end, when he had felt able to talk about what had occurred those two days he had been in Paris. It had been a truly terrible time for him. She still burned with the shame of what she had put him through. She was brought back to the present, by sound of a knocking on the study door.

"Enter,"

"Christine, the Vicomte has just left. It is well past lunch. I thought you must be hungry. You have to keep your strength up," Said Madame Giry reprovingly as she set a tray down on the desk.

"Thank you, I will try to eat for the sake of the babe, but I must admit to having no appetite for it," she sighed.

"Is there something troubling you Madame?"

"I am worried about Raoul. He has been acting strangely for the last two days. Have you noticed anything untoward in his manner?" asked Christine.

"Nothing remarkable Christine…unless…"

"What is it?" She asked.

"Last night, I stopped by your rooms to see if you were returning or not and I found your favourite figures smashed to pieces,"

"Do you think it was Raoul?"

"By the disorder of the room I would say so,"

"I had noticed they were gone, but thought one of the maids had moved them for cleaning," Christine admitted. She handed Madame Giry the piece of paper that she still held. "Oh God, he knows. He has to, what else can explain it. There is nothing for it; Erik and I must leave here and now before Raoul returns,"

"No Madame you cannot, what If you were to have your child on the journey? Do you wish for it to be born on the roadside? You must stay here until the baby comes. Your greatest weapon is that the Vicomte is unaware of your discovery. You must act as if nothing has occurred,"

"I don't think I can do that,"

"You must and you will, for your sake and for Erik's,"

Christine smiled at Madame Giry through her tears. "You care about him, don't you?" she asked.

Madame Giry nodded. "Oui, I am the nearest thing to family he has ever known, but now he has you and I am happy for him,"

Christine gasped as she thought of something. "But Erik, oh God what if Raoul knows where he is and is there this very moment?" asked Christine.

"Hush child you cannot know that. Do not distress yourself,"

"I need to know he is safe, and then I will rest," said Christine.

"I will send Meg. You cannot make the journey to the summerhouse twice in one day,"

Christine took a sheet of paper from the desk and hastily wrote a message on it and sealed it before handing it to Madame Giry. She walked to the door and turned around to face Christine.

"Do not worry, all will be well,"

"I wish I could believe that. Tell Meg to tell Erik that I give him leave to come to the house,"

"Very well, where shall I send him to? You can both use my apartments if you need privacy to talk,"

"Thank you,"

* * *

Meg mounted Christine's horse dressed in breeches and a man's shirt. Her attire would have shocked more genteel company, but she often felt hampered by the fashions of the day. She spurred the horse on, with Christine's letter clasped firmly in her hand. It took only moments for the horse to eat up the distance to the clearing, and as she got off the horse, she tied it to a nearby tree.

Meg could not stop the nervous fluttering of her heart as she neared the summerhouse. He was still that fearful legend to her, the stuff of horror stories that the all girls used to whisper to each other in the opera dorms late at night. Back then, Christine had been blissfully unaware that it had been her angel of music, of which they had spoken.

She sighed, in mourning for the old times at her former home, gasping as she walked into something warm and solid. She looked up into the grey eyes of the phantom. He had donned his white mask, which he often did when she accompanied Christine.

He gripped her by the arms. "What is it? Is it Christine?" Meg moved out of his hold on her, he released her, his hands falling to his sides. "Excuse me mademoiselle," he uttered.

"Christine is well," she assured him. "I bring a note from her to you," she handed it to him.

Erik snatched it from her fingers impatiently and perused it.

"So, she knows that the Vicomte has discovered out secret," he said.

"You do not seem surprised monsieur,"

"I am not, but I have my reasons. Before we set off to the house, tell me Meg, how is Christine after what Raoul did to her?" he asked.

Meg flushed. "She is coping as best she can. It was a great shock to her. We now think that he tried to violate her because he knew about the two of you," she admitted. Erik felt the dark murderous anger seep into his soul as he looked at Meg. She backed away in fear at what she read in his face. "You didn't know did you?" she guessed.

"But I do now, thank you for calling my bluff and telling me the truth behind her earlier distress,"

He strode off behind the house to where his horse was stabled, Meg followed him. "What do you intend to do. You cannot kill the Vicomte,"

"I don't intend to put paid to his existence today. Or the next, but after that I cannot promise. Do not worry little one, time equals all things," he replied enigmatically.

Meg frowned, sensing some deeper meaning behind his words, but she knew she would not trick the truth out of him as easily as he had done to her. She mounted her horse and it took all her skills as an equestrian to keep up with him and the powerful black stallion.

As they reached the house, and he dismounted, striding off in the direction of Madame Giry's apartments. Leaving Meg to stable the horses. Erik burst into the house unannounced, taking both Christine and Madame Giry by surprise.

"Erik,"

He turned to look at Madame Giry. "Leave us," She looked at him and his resolute expression before exiting the room. Erik turned back to face Christine, his look accusing. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"I did, the note explained everything and that Raoul knows," she replied, a little confused.

"But you left out the most important thing,"

"And what was that?" she asked.

"That your husband tried to rape you," he said quietly, the words paining him.

"How did you know?" she demanded.

"Meg, she thought I knew. She did not set out to betray your confidence. What I want to know is why you didn't tell me?" he asked.

"Because I knew what you would do to him," she sighed.

Erik knew it too. For if he had had the knowledge that the Vicomte had attacked her, when he had his hands around his throat, he would have continued to squeeze until there was no breath left in his body. _If the fates were kind in two days there wouldn't be, He had just found his purpose_ he thought with satisfied anticipation.

TBC


	19. Eventide

Chapter 19

Eventide 

When Raoul had returned from his lawyer the day before, by some miracle Christine had managed to draw on all of her capabilities as an actress to pretend that all was well. In fact, Raoul had been the perfect attentive husband, almost so, that at times it was hard to believe that he knew. He was not quite as clever at hiding it as he seemed to think. For sometimes when she looked at him and caught him in an unguarded moment, she saw anger and hurt in his eyes, which he would quickly mask when he became aware that she was watching him. In a way, a terrible burden had been lifted from her even though Raoul had not yet confronted her.

The only comfort she took was that although Raoul knew of her infidelities, he had no knowledge of Erik's whereabouts. She was sure if he did, that he would have taken some course of action by now. Erik had seemed strangely preoccupied and a little detached for the last couple of days. The reason she could not understand, for she knew he had no fear of her husband. The only reason that came to mind was that he was anxious over the impending birth of the child. He had smiled at her and held her, but there had been some underlying emotion in his eyes, if asked to put a name to it, she would have called it wretchedness.

A odd feeling of portent hung over her that she could not shake off. It had settled in the region of her heart and would not leave her, and was not unlike the feelings she had experienced when she had thought of Raoul before his wrongly reported death. Christine sighed as she looked out of her window and at the beauty of the night. The air was crisp and the stars blinked in the darkness of the sky.

She shivered a little and wrapped the shawl more tightly around her shoulders as she crept from the house and walked out onto the gravel lined pathway and round to the back of the house to Madame Giry's apartments. Erik would no longer allow her to make the journey to the house in her advanced condition, as much as she missed their time together in the summerhouse, she could see the practicality of his reasoning. Raoul had retired to bed some hours previous, made sleepy by an excess of wine at the dinner table. She had not scolded him, recognising that he needed the anaesthesia for his pain, which the alcohol provided.

Erik was already waiting outside, he walked towards her and held out his arm and she took it as he led her to Madame Giry's door. She stopped and looked at him before entering.

"Erik,"

"Yes,"

"If there were anything wrong you would tell me, wouldn't you?" she asked.

_Not for all the world _he thought to himself as he looked at her. "I would," he replied, hating that he had to lie to her.

Erik held her gaze, and stroked the softness of her cheek and she leaned into his caress, smiling up at him with absolute trust shining in her eyes. _Oh God did this girl even realise that she was all of life to him? _

It was on the tip of his tongue to confess all to her, in the face of such blind trust, but the words stuck in his throat. He had only promised Christine; those long months ago, that _he_ would not seek the confrontation. On that, he had kept his promise. It had been the Vicomte himself who had demanded it, not he and she remained blissfully unaware of his meeting with her husband the other day. He intended it to remain so.

He sighed inwardly. What was about to occur between himself and Raoul was a debt of honour that the Vicomte wanted payment for and in blood. He would not have her worry so close to the birth of the child. He had already set his affairs in order and had left a letter to be found in the event of his death. All the possessions he had accrued over the years were to be bequeathed to Christine and their child.

If this was to be their last night on this earth together, he did not want to spend it thinking of what might have been. He refused to burden her with what was to come on the morn. If he killed Raoul, they would have to leave here anyway, although it was still common practise among the upper class, duelling its self had long been declared illegal and he had no wish to make a date with Madame Guillotine.

He lowered his head to kiss her lips, deepening the kiss and filling it with such passion and longing that she pulled away from him and gasped, touching a hand to her lips as if he had burnt them with the ferocity of the emotions he had tried to convey. She wondered at it, as she looked deep into his eyes.

"Do you know how much I love you?" he asked.

"I-I think I just felt it," she replied, licking her lips.

"Does the depth of my emotions frighten you?"

"No, for it only mirrors my own,"

Erik smiled at her. "But it makes you sad too,"

"Yes," she nodded. "Not sad for loving you, but sad because someone will be the loser in all this…I truly care for Raoul, I do. I hope that one day he can forgive what I have done to him,"

"Let us not think on this a moment longer, instead you and I will play a game. I want us to pretend that this is our last night on earth and tomorrow the world ends. Do you think you can do that?" he asked.

She frowned at him "That is a strange kind of game, but if it makes you happy?"

He kissed the tip of her nose. "It would, for tonight let us imagine that we are in the kingdom of our story and nothing can touch us,"

"Not even that evil Machiavellian Vicomte you once mentioned?" she teased.

"Especially not him," said Erik firmly.

He led her into Madame Giry's residence and closed the door behind them. Madame Giry waited for them in the sitting room; she rose from her chair when she saw them.

"Bonjour," she looked at Erik.

He nodded his reply to her greeting. She sat back down in her chair and an uncomfortable silence of several minutes duration hung in the room, only broken by the ticking of the mantle clock. Sighing deeply, Mme Giry put aside her mending and got up.

"I will leave you both alone now as I have to make the rounds of the house before I retire,"

"Thank you," Christine added, turning her attention back to Erik.

He took her hand, led her to one of the sofas, and gently pulled her onto his lap. He lay back and she followed him, resting her cheek against the solid wall of his chest, drawing comfort from the warmth of his body. She nuzzled at the exposed flesh at the collar of his partially unbuttoned white shirt. She smiled as she licked at his collarbone with the tip of her tongue and felt him harden beneath her. She deliberately shifted her weight a little and pressed herself closer to him.

Erik sighed and lifted her from his lap, setting her down in the space beside him.

"You are too much of a temptation," he smiled.

"Don't you want me?" she asked him, a slight pout to her lips.

"Did it feel like I didn't want you? I always want you Christine," he replied.

"No, but…you said we were to pretend like it was our last night together and I was,"

"How so?"

"Well, all I know is if it were my last night, I would want to spend it in your arms holding you and touching you…being one with you," she breathed.

Erik groaned as she licked her lips deliberately.

"Do you think it will harm you or the baby?" he asked.

"Well, we were fine just three nights ago, weren't we? But if you are truly concerned, there are other things we can do," she said, as her hand disappeared beneath the snowy white cloth of his shirt.

Christine's hand caressed the warm skin of his chest, before removing it and letting it travel slowly down his body, until it rested on the waistband of his trousers.

He leaned in and kissed her again, pressing warm kisses against her throat, as his hands went around to the back of her gown, and unfastened it, he slipped it off her shoulders to expose the rounded globe of one of her breasts. He cupped it in his hand, enjoying the new fullness of it, brought on by her condition.

Christine let out a low moan; she broke their kiss and looked up at him, before arching her neck to give him better access. She sighed with pleasure as his lips travelled lower, Christine's hands thrust into his hair, holding on to him, as he turned his attention to the other one.

"I want you to make love to me, I need you inside me. To touch you is not enough," she begged. "It cannot bring harm to the baby,"

"If you are sure?"

She nodded and took his hand and led him to the rug by the fire. He lay down on the hearthrug, taking her with him. He looked at her intently, her beauty in the soft glow of the fire causing him to pause for a moment, before he kissed her again.

"I am sure," she replied as he helped her undress before removing his own clothing. "We need not worry about Madame Giry, she will not return for some time yet,"

She rested her legs either side of his hips, looking as tempting to him as Eve must have to Adam, her body rounded and inviting to his touch. He reached out a hand to stroke her cheek, running his fingertips across her throat and collarbone before moving lower.

For some reason, it brought tears to her eyes, that this man, who was capable of such violence, could wring such emotion from her with his body and have the touch of an angel.

He took one of his hands from her waist and laced his fingers through hers, as they rocked together. Her free hand travelled to his cheek, as she ran a fingertip along his parted lips. His tongue flicked at her fingers before drawing them into his mouth as he sucked on each one in turn. He shifted position and propped himself up on his elbows as he watched her take pleasure from his body. Finally taking over he brought them both to completion, as they cried out their release.

Christine smiled at him with a sated languor that spread through her bones. They kissed, not wanting to part from each other. They lay like that, still joined, for several moments, both staring into the flickering flames of the fire. Each lost in their own thoughts.

Erik was the first to move, not desiring to be caught in such a compromising position by Madame Giry, as he lifted her from him.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"I feel wonderful," she reassured him as she began to gather up her clothing.

"I think you have me wrapped around your little finger, in fact I know you do. All you have to do is touch me and what remains of my sanity flees," he sighed indulgently.

He led her back over to the sofa and they sat down together. He took her in his arms, neither of them speaking, just holding each other and both enjoying the silence. She smiled as he stroked her hair, after the passing of some time; she began to feel a little sleepy from his ministrations.

"Sing me a song?" she asked.

"What would I sing?" he replied, a little surprised by her request.

"Something soft,"

"I wrote a lullaby for our child, I was keeping it, but if you would like to hear it now?"

Her eyes misted as she took his hand and kissed it.

"That would be perfect,"

She lay back against his chest, as he began to sing, the vibration from his voice flowing through her and bringing her peace.

* * *

Erik opened his eyes and stared at the off-white ceiling that was in his bedchamber, he closed his eyes and saw Christine's face behind his lids as he recalled her in his mind.

All too soon, their wonderful night had ended and Erik had returned to his home with the knowledge that it might well be the last time he would ever see her beloved face. Their parting had been strangely emotional, and she had shed tears and clung to him. He wondered at it and if he had in some way betrayed himself. He had seen fear in her eyes as she had bestowed a final kiss on him, holding his hand until the last moment as he had disappeared into the night. He had wished her goodbye, something that he had promised never to do, but she had been too emotional at the time to notice it.

As he stirred from his bed, he could see the pale light of dawn as it heralded the birth of a new day. Erik sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed with a heavy heart. If he could wish this day to hell, then he would. Not because he was afraid, he would lose, but because he was afraid, that he would lose everything.

He walked over to the washstand, splashed the cool water on his face, and wiped away the excess with a towel. Methodically he took a crisp white shirt from his wardrobe and buttoned it up with shaking fingers. He stopped mid task and made fists of his hands to steady them. He combed and powdered his hair before donning his wig and white mask. While he continued dressing, he checked the clock on the mantle.

He pulled on his black coat and sat for a moment to gather his thoughts and focus on the task ahead. The Vicomte had challenged him to kill him outright and at that moment, it seemed the only way left to buy freedom for Christine and him. Strangely, since Jean's death he had lost all taste for violence in any form except the absolute necessary. However, today was a day of necessity and one that had finally dawned. Erik left his bedchamber and walked into the living area and took his sword and scabbard from where it rested by the chair. He strapped it around his waist, while pondering whether he should pray to the God that had deserted him so long ago, but decided against the final act of hypocrisy as he pulled on his leather gloves and exited the house.

* * *

Christine awoke to the movement in her bed; she turned around, surprised to see Raoul awake and starting to dress. She smiled at him sleepily.

"Where are you going so early?" she asked him.

"I have pressing business Madame,"

She winced at the formality of his address, not wishing to press him further, but curious nonetheless.

"What can be so urgent at this time of day? It is but six,"

"Do not fret, it is something that I have to take care of, and that I should have taken care if a long time ago...put a dog out of its misery," he finished under his breath as he strode from the room.

Christine frowned as she lay back down and tried to get comfortable, but was unable. There had been a nagging ache in her lower back for most of the night and it showed no signs of leaving her now. Sighing in defeat, she rang the bell for Charlotte to attend her and waited for her arrival.

The girl appeared five minutes later and seemed in an agitated state.

"What is wrong Charlotte?" asked Christine.

"Nothing Madame," she replied as she helped Christine from the bed and led her over to the dressing table.

"You lie," she blurted out. "Tell me what is going on this instant!" demanded Christine, taking a breath as she realised she was almost shouting. "Forgive me Charlotte," Christine looked at the girl and saw she was close to tears.

"I was not supposed to say, but you are my mistress I cannot keep it from you any longer…they have gone to fight a duel,"

Christine paled and gripped the girl's arms. "Who!"

"The phantom and your husband. Oh, Madame I have known about him for months…the phantom, but did not betray you I promise,"

The memory of her and Erik's parting last night came back to her, as she remembered the nature of it. A hand flew to her mouth _he had wished her goodbye._ "Where is this duel to take place?" asked Christine, hardly registering the girl's words.

"My older brother Jacques is attending as a second for your lover, er I mean the phantom. He said it was going to be held at the clearing near where your phantom resides,"

"Why did you not make mention of knowing about Erik and I, before?" asked Christine.

"Because it is not unusual for people of you and your husband's station to take a lover," blushed Charlotte.

"Run and to the stables and get tell the stable boy to prepare the carriage and there is not a moment to lose Charlotte, for two men's lives are at stake here. Wake Madame Giry and Meg too,"

"Oui Madame,"

Christine quickly dressed in the first garment she could find, ringing her hands in anguish as she awaited the return of her maid. She stopped mid stride as she felt a twinge in her side and sucked in a breath until it passed. Charlotte re-appeared moments later with Meg and Madame Giry in tow.

"Christine," said Meg rushing to her friend's side and taking her hands in hers.

"We must leave at once, before it is too…l-late," her voice broke over the last words.

The women left the room and for the first time in its existence, she cursed the advanced state of her pregnancy from stopping her running to where they were. The minutes dragged as she got into the carriage and the horses set off.

* * *

"Dear Vicomte, I cannot express how thrilled I am that you managed to keep out appointment," said Erik nonchalantly as he eyed his adversary.

"I am sorry I cannot return the sentiment. I am sure you understand," replied Raoul haughtily.

Erik chuckled. "If you had been tumbling my wife, I suppose I would be in an ill humour myself," he taunted.

Raoul stiffened, aware of the two servants and the family physician Dr Vallaurio that attended him. He turned and nodded to one of them and they walked forward holding an ornate ebony box. The man opened it and Erik saw the two duelling pistols nestled in the antique red velvet.

"These pistols have been in my family for two generations, much cleaner than a sword fight wouldn't you agree?" asked Raoul.

"If you insist," shrugged Erik. He was more than a little disconcerted at the Vicomte's choice of weapon, Christine had told him on several occasions of her husband's prowess with firearms.

"I do, I am the party with cause and therefore it is my right,"

Dr Vallaurio shook his head in disgust. "Matter of honour indeed! It is nothing but common butchery I tell you," he grumbled as he watched the proceedings. "I prepared the pistols myself and have found no fault in them," He took the box from the servant and proffered it to Erik first.

Erik contemplated the contents of the box momentarily before choosing a weapon, and waited while Raoul took the remaining firearm. He gave the Vicomte one last look as turned and stood back to back.

"You are to both walk forwards ten paces, and do not take aim until instructed,"

As Erik took those ten paces towards his destiny, the only thing he could see was Christine, her rich brown eyes, her rounded body and the feel of her soft kisses. It sustained him in the longest walk of his life. _Nine…ten_ he turned to face the Vicomte.

"Take aim," called out the doctor.

"Christine," Erik whispered under his breath as he levelled his pistol at Raoul and the Vicomte did the same.

All involved were too taken up in the moment to hear the approaching carriage come to a stop a few feet away. Christine had seen them, from the window as they had taken their paces, she had almost cried out in frustrated anguish and pain.

"Fire!"

"No!" screamed Christine as she scrambled from the carriage, to the report of pistol fire.

TBC


	20. The Reckoning

A/N Thanks everyone for the previous reviews. Just a note, if Christine's labour seems short in this chapter, I did not think it was necessary to go into a technical version of it for story telling purposes. I do know how childbirth works, I have done it three times myself lol. And to answer a couple of questions about how will they know if its Erik's or Raoul's I know babies tend to look like little angry old men when they are born, but I had no trouble seeing my kids father in mine and Raoul and Erik are differing enough in looks/etc to hopefully not make it too hard to tell. I hope I didn't leave you hanging too long with my evil cliffhanger lol.

Chapter 20

The reckoning

The smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air, invading her nostrils, as she doubled up on the grass in agony as a terrible pain ripped through her lower body. For one hysterical moment, she thought a bullet had struck her, until she felt Madame Giry's arms around her.

"Do not move child, your babe is coming. We need to get you back to the house,"

Christine tried to turn, but Madame Giry would not let her. "I want Erik, I need to see him…and Raoul," she cried desperately.

"Please Madame," said Mme Giry.

Christine struggled against her. "No I won't go!" she could feel the hysteria building up inside her. "Why won't you let me see them?" She looked at Mme Giry seeing the unshed tears in her eyes.

Meg came to her side. "Christine it is going to be fine. I am here with you. Let the servants carry you back to the carriage," She said gently.

"I won't go," she screamed as she finally gave vent to her emotions.

The two servants that had served as seconds came to help their mistress to her feet. She relaxed in their hold, fooling them into thinking she no longer intended to resist them. They loosened their hold on her because of it, she took the opportunity to wrest herself from their grip and she turned to face the scene before her. What she was not prepared for was the sight of both men, lying motionless, sprawled on the grass. Red blood stained both of their clothing.

"Erik!" her legs no longer co-operated with her as she sank back down to the ground, hiding her face in her hands.

She wiped at the tears that fell, ignoring the increasing pain in her abdomen as she crawled over to where Erik lay. Almost there, her fingers reached out and touched the sleeve of his coat. He looked so pale and still, his mask having fallen off lying on the ground next to him. She picked it up and leaned over to him. She touched his face, it felt cold to her and she recoiled in shock as the truth before her eyes sank into her mind.

Her tears rained down on his face, and ran down his cheeks as she leaned in to kiss his lips before replacing the mask on his face to give him his dignity even in death.

"You can't be dead," she took his gloved hand and brushed her cheek against it. "I am having your child. Please do not leave me to walk in this world without you….Erik…my love…my angel,"

"Arrrgh," she screamed as another wave of pain hit her.

"Come Madame we must get you back to the house, unless you want your child to be born in this field,"

Christine held on to his hand for a moment longer as she looked at her lover. "Until we meet once…more in our utopia of our stories…"

As Madame Giry and a servant led her away, she kept her face turned towards Erik, memorising every detail of him. She looked down at her hand to find it covered with Erik's blood. She closed her fingers around the stain. She continued to look at him, realising for the first time that she had forgotten her husband. A quick glance in the direction shocked her as she saw him sit up, clutching his side.

Doctor Vallaurio was attending him. The last words she heard as she got into the carriage were the physician talking to Raoul. "It is nothing, but a minor flesh wound, the bullet hardly grazed you. You will live,"

The carriage set off, Christine lay back against the cushions of the seat, empty and desolate.

Raoul looked across the field to his fallen opponent. A smile of satisfaction spread across his face at the sight of the inert figure, which soon faded as he noticed a tiny movement, before Erik coughed and his hand flew to his shoulder as he regained consciousness.

Erik looked up at his opponent. "Seems no matter how hard we try monsieur we cannot kill each other after all,"

"So it would seem," sighed Raoul, in frustrated bitterness.

He looked at Erik calculatingly as an idea came to him. He waited impatiently as the doctor bound his wound before being helped to his feet. _Christine thought her lover to be dead. Erik was unaware of the fact that Christine had even been here._ The two servants had returned to the house with the others, so Dr Vallaurio was the only other person to know the truth, besides him. He had seen the sickening display his wife had performed in front of the help. In her wrongly thinking him dead, she had given him what he had been looking for, a way to be rid of Erik forever.

He watched as the doctor attended to Erik. His bullet had penetrated the phantom's shoulder and because of it, he had lost a considerable amount of blood, but the demon still lived.

"Help me get him back to his home," said Raoul.

The Phantom looked at Raoul in surprise. "I was sure you were about to order me flogged and driven from your land," said Erik mockingly. Wincing as the doctor and the Vicomte supported him and helped him back to the summerhouse.

"I will be back to see to you later Monsieur. I must attend to the lady of the house,"

Erik gripped his arm more tightly.

"Why?" he demanded.

"Her child is coming,"

"Christine is having the baby? I must go to her, she needs me," Said Erik.

He collapsed in Raoul's arms as the Vicomte and doctor took him to his room. Raoul placed Erik on the bed and looked at the doctor.

"Give him something for the pain…something strong," he added.

"If you are sure monsieur? Morphine should knock him out for a while. It is probably for the best. That shoulder is going to hurt like the devil once he awakes. After I have attended your wife I will return to remove the bullet,"

The doctor prepared the syringe and carefully removed Erik's coat and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt to administer the drug. He regained consciousness for a moment, as he felt the sharp sting of the needle penetrate his arm.

"What are you doing to me?" He demanded.

"Putting you out of your misery of course," smirked Raoul.

"Christine…"

"Christine is _my_ wife," said Raoul. He turned to the doctor. "Come, we must hasten back to her,"

Raoul and the doctor hurried up the drive towards the main house.

"Doctor Vallaurio?"

"Yes?"

"I have a service to ask of you,"

"If there is anything I can help with, you have but to ask. I have been a loyal servant to your family for many years now. I brought you into this world."

"Yes, well what I need you to do isn't exactly ethical…I want you to fake my wife's death and that of her child, or at least write a death certificate for her,"

"I am not sure that I understand you correctly Vicomte,"

"Oh, I think you do. You see that man back at my summerhouse is my wife's lover. The child you are about to birth is most likely his. He will never leave us alone, unless of course, he thinks that Christine is dead. Christine already believes her lover to be dead, now if he thinks the same he will leave here and let us get on with our lives,"

"I could lose my licence to practise as a doctor monsieur!"

"I would see that you were well compensated. Everyone has their price, name yours,"

Doctor Vallaurio looked at the Vicomte_, it was true and he had gaming debts. The money would come in useful for settling them. But it was so wrong; he had seen the love that the couple bore for each other. He sighed deeply. He needed the patronage of the De Chagnys to survive; most of his patients were rustics that paid for treatment with a brace of pheasants or a freshly baked loaf of bread. No, he could not afford to go against the Vicomte._

"I will do it,"

"Thank you," said Raoul

* * *

When Raoul and the doctor burst into the house moments later, there was chaos all around them as servants hurried around for fresh linens. He was met by Madame Giry. 

"How is my wife?" He asked.

"She is doing fine Vicomte, Meg and Charlotte are with her now,"

"I will go and see to her," said the doctor.

"And now all we have to do is wait for the babe to arrive," sighed Mme Giry.

"I am sure you are experienced in these matters Mme, do you think that it will be long?" asked Raoul.

"Yes, unfortunately I have attended my fair share of births," said Mme Giry, as she thought back to some of the unfortunate chorus girls who over the years had been seduced and left by their lovers and on a few occasions with more than that. "She does not have long,"

"Madame, I know that you thought a lot of the phantom, if you wish to no longer remain here with his killer, I would understand," said Raoul.

Madame Giry's lips trembled as she took a breath. "So, he is…dead?"

"I wish I could say I am sorry about it, but yes he is,"

Mme Giry swayed in the hallway as she leant against the door for support. She had been Erik's friend and self-appointed protector for so long, he had almost been like family to her. She kept in the tears that threatened to fall. Christine was already distraught and inconsolable, even in the throes of labour. She had to be strong for Christine. Madame Giry followed Raoul to his bedchamber.

"You have to wait outside Vicomte, childbirth is not a man's domain," she told him.

Raoul was about to protest, when the doctor re-emerged from the room.

"We don't have much time. From what the Vicomtess tells me, she may have been in labour for quite some time," The doctor looked at Madame Giry. "She is asking for you,"

"Has she not asked for me at all?" asked Raoul.

"I am sorry monsieur, but no," The doctor shook his head. _She had been calling for another man entirely_. Her sobs had almost broken his heart to witness. He hated the Vicomte for knowing his weakness and using it against him.

Raoul sat down on a chair in the hallway, still clinging to the faint hope that his wife was inside birthing their child, not her lovers. His fists clenched at his sides in impotent rage as he waited.

* * *

"Madame, please you must calm yourself," said the doctor. 

"I want to die,"

"Christine think of your child!" said Mme Giry in shocked tones.

"My child is without a father because of Raoul. I hate him. I never want to him again,"

Her words were loud and penetrating enough for her waiting husband to hear them on the other side of the door, but she was past caring.

"Meg?"

"Yes Christine,"

"Will you find out where they…bury…him?" she asked.

"Yes, but Christine lets get your child born first,"

"I want to push,"

"Not yet Madame," advised the doctor.

She screamed unable to stop nature from taking its course, the doctor rushed to her side. Christine screamed once more.

"You are doing well child, I can see the head. One more," the Doctor encouraged.

Christine let out another cry and her baby was born into the doctor's hands.

"Is he okay?" asked Christine.

"How did you know it was a boy?" asked the doctor.

"It is a boy?" asked Christine as tears welled up in her eyes. "Please I need to hold him,"

The doctor cut the cord, wrapped a sheet around the child, and handed him to his mother. Madame Giry smiled at her, through her grief stricken tears.

"Come look at him Mme Giry can you see the boy that Erik once was in the child?" asked Christine as she stared down at her newborn son.

Madame Giry swallowed as she looked down at the child in Christine's arms She could see the father in the son. He was no De Chagny. From the tiny little cleft in his chin to the pale blue eyes that looked like they might one day be the stormy grey of his father's. This was Erik's babe. Oh how happy he would have been to see his likeness in his child. She could not stop the tears from falling down her cheeks.

"He is beautiful Christine, Erik would have been proud," Mme Giry stroked the soft cheek of the baby. "What will you name him?"

"I wish to call him Erik Jean after two brave men that lost their lives and in whose debt I will be in for the rest of my life,"

Madame Giry smiled at her through her tears.

"You did just fine Madame. There is no reason why you should not make a full recovery," Doctor Vallaurio assured her, wiping his hands on a towel.

"Christine let me take your child for you and clean him up,"

Christine held her son to her breast. "No, I don't want to let him go. He is all I have left of…him,"

"Very well I shall heat some water and come back to you. Is that acceptable?" asked Mme Giry, she led Meg from the room sensing that Christine wished to be alone.

Christine nodded as she stroked the baby's face.

"I will go and speak to your husband," said the doctor as he also exited the room and left Christine alone with her child.

* * *

"Erik Jean," she whispered. "Your life begins today where your father's ends. He loved you so much, even though he will never see your sweet face. He used to sing songs for you and tell you stories and whisper to me how much he wanted you…he will watch over you from afar just like my father did for me," she sighed sadly and began to sing her son the lullaby that Erik had sang to her only the night before. 

As she sang, the tears fell down her cheeks and on to her sleeping child. _Was it really only last night that he had sang his song to her?_ Christine felt the hysteria rise up in her again as she remembered Erik's lifeless body. His coat stained red with his life's blood.

She stopped mid sentence as the door was flung open and Raoul strode in the room.

"R-Raoul," she stammered.

Raoul looked at her his eyes wild and his hair unkempt. He still wore the shirt that he had been wearing at the duel, bloodstained and dirtied. She held her son closer to her in fear.

"How prettily you blush, like a maid. But we both know differently Christine, do we not?" he asked.

"Please Raoul, can we have this conversation later. I am so tired,"

Raoul's eyed raked over her appearance; he saw the pinched look to her face and the deep misery in her eyes. Instead of compassion, he felt triumph that she thought her lover dead.

"How fares your bastard?" he asked her. "By law I could take your child from you and never let you lay eyes on him again, and there would be nothing you could do about it,"

"I would fight you with my last breath before I would let you do that," said Christine cradling her child protectively.

He smiled at her. "It's a frightening thought isn't it, when you fear you may lose your whole world,"

"I already did. You killed my love and any feeling that I might have had left for you with it," she spat at him.

"You never loved me! Do not pretend otherwise. It was him, it was always him. That night at the opera house you were panting for him like a bitch in heat for the whole of Paris to see!"

"That's not true," even her reply sounded false to her ears.

"And then in his lair, you kissed him, not once but twice. You obviously got a taste for it. I felt you turn in my arms to look back at him as I was taking you away from that hellish place, Christine. You wanted him even then! Well my dear there is nowhere else to run. You are mine and you will stay here with me. You will give me another son. This time one of my blood, a De Chagny heir,"

"You cannot mean it! I will never sleep with you again,"

"You will and you will learn to like it. I saw the things that you did with him. Things that any practised whore would blush to perform, I guess my friends had the right of it when they said that actress was just a pretty name for a whore,"

"I hate you! You murderer,"

"Touché my dear, you seem to enjoy the company of murderers so you should not have much difficulty in accepting mine,"

Raoul advanced on the bed and before she knew what he was doing, he snatched the child from her arms. He held him up to look at him.

Christine held out her hands. "Please…don't hurt him; he is only an innocent babe,"

"Hmmm, I can see your lover in him indeed. Of course without his father's blemish or mark,"

Madame Giry re-entered the room. "What is going on here?" she asked as she put the pan of hot water down on the cabinet. "I think you had better give the baby back to me and Christine needs to rest," said Mme Giry as she held out her hands to Raoul.

Raoul looked at both of the women defiantly for a moment before handing the child to Mme Giry. Christine almost sobbed with relief. Raoul looked at his wife with ill-concealed disgust before striding out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

"Oh, Madame thank you. If you had not arrived I do not know what he would have done,"

"Christine, I am worried for you husband's sanity. If ever you feel threatened just ring for Meg or me. I will get Charlotte to keep an eye out. She is very loyal to you and can be trusted,"

Christine watched as Madame Giry unwrapped her precious child and cleaned him in the washbowl. He made full use of his lungs and protested at the alien feel of the water.

Christine looked at Mme Giry sadly. "H-how do I go on without him?" she asked, her voice coming out in a pained whisper.

"One day at a time Christine. But you will go on, if not for yourself then the sake of your child,"

Christine sucked in a breath. Mme Giry had almost mirrored the very same words that Erik had spoken to her in those long summer months they had spent together in the summerhouse.

"He looks so like his father, it is hard to see any of myself in my son. I am glad,"

Mme Giry lifted the wailing infant out of the water, dried, and wrapped him in clean linens before placing him on the bed. Christine picked up her son and inhaled the clean soapy scent of him. He would not stop crying, it was as if he knew what a poor fatherless child he was, or maybe he sensed her grief and shared it.

"We need to see to you now, and your babe will want feeding soon I am sure,"

Christine put her son down while Madame Giry attended her. Afterwards she got back into bed and held her son once more, slipping the nightgown off her shoulder to present him with her breast. He latched onto it greedily.

Raoul found the doctor in the hallway, hovering about nervously. He walked towards the older man and held out his hand. The doctor took a piece of paper from his medical bag and handed it to Raoul.

Raoul read it and looked at the doctor with a satisfied look on his face. "Very good Dr Vallaurio, death from massive haemorrhaging and the child was stillborn. I will have funds placed in your bank account within the week, do not breathe a word of this to anyone,"

The Dr scoffed at him. "I will remain silent, but it does not mean that I agree with your methods,"

"I am not asking you to," replied Raoul. "Before you leave, I want you to dose up our dear friend with another shot of morphine. I don't want him knocking at my door before I have accomplished all that I wish to,"

"Very well," said the doctor eyeing him distastefully, tipping his hat before leaving.

With that, Raoul went in the other direction in search of Madame Giry and Meg. Dismissing disloyal servants was never a pleasant task, but for once, he was looking forward to it with relish.

TBC


	21. The Evil That Men Do

Chapter 21

The Evil that men do

Madame Giry sat down wearily; it had been a demanding and terrible day. It was almost midnight by the clock on the mantle. She sat back on the chair and closed her eyes for a moment. Erik's face appeared in her mind as she finally allowed herself to grieve for him. At least he had found a little happiness with Christine, no matter how brief its duration. For that, she would be glad. There would be his son for her to love; the perfection of his child's face would have made him weep. She sighed and picked up a book, which had been earlier discarded, hoping to find distraction within its pages, but it could not hold her attention as the text swam before her tired eyes.

A forceful knock sounded at her door. She frowned due to the lateness of the hour. Rising from her seat, she went to answer it. When she opened the door a little, she stumbled backwards as the Vicomte pushed against it forcefully.

"Vicomte is there something wrong?" asked Mme Giry.

The Vicomte handed her an envelope stuffed full of franc notes. "This is your severance pay Madame. I have a coach ready for you and your daughter and I expect you to leave here within the hour,"

Mme Giry paled; the thought of leaving Christine here alone with the Vicomte filled her with fear. The wildness in his eyes and his unkempt appearance concerned her. She wondered if he were just a little unhinged as she looked at him. His movements were jerky and uncoordinated as he paced backwards and forwards in the room, seemingly full of nervous energy.

"But…"

"I think my offer is very generous in the circumstances. Most employers would have had you ejected from the house and with no recompense. I think you do not need to ask the reason for your dismissal Madame. You are Christine's ally and co-conspirator in this affair. You had better wake your daughter and make sure she is ready to leave,"

"What of Erik's body?" asked Mme Giry.

Raoul scowled at her question. "Not that it is any business of yours, but I had the servants to place him in an unmarked grave in the family vault,"

He slammed out of the apartments, and Madame Giry stared down at the money-filled envelope. She would have to leave; there was no choice, for she was sure that Raoul would have no qualms about having her thrown out of his house. _There had to be some way to watch over Christine and her babe?_ She put the money aside and went off in the direction of the maid's quarters.

After she had woken Charlotte and made her aware of what was happening, Madame Giry had one more place to visit…Raoul's study. Checking that there was no light shining under the door, she cautiously opened it to total darkness. The shadows of the room gave it a sinister appearance. Shaking off her unease, she walked across the room, freezing as she stepped on a creaky floorboard.

She held in her breath before continuing towards the desk. She sat down in the padded leather seat and stooped down to try the drawers in search of the gun she knew he kept there. Her search proved fruitless, until she came to the last one. It was tightly locked. Taking the silver letter opener from the desktop, she wiggled it in the lock.

After a few attempts, it gave a satisfying click. _She had not lost her touch_ she smiled to herself. If Meg and the others knew of her childhood, before she became a pupil at the opera house, they would have been shocked. She opened the drawer to look at the gun that rested inside…a revolver. She prayed that Christine would never have to use it, but she would not abandon her to the madness that seemed to be consuming her husband. She had seen the look in his eyes as he had held Christine's child and it made her flesh crawl to think of it.

Returning a few minutes later, she went to wake Meg and together they began to pack their belongings in contemplative silence. All the time Mme Giry kept her eye on the clock, glad to be leaving here, but afraid for Christine's welfare. She secured the fastenings on her portmanteau and she took one last look around the place to make sure she had left nothing behind.

* * *

They still had a few vital minutes left. Quietly Meg and her mother, made their way to Christine's room in the hopes that the Vicomte was not in attendance. Madame Giry knocked before entering.

"Christine?"

"I am awake, but Erik Jean still sleeps," whispered Christine. She leant over the side of her bed and lit a candle. The little light dissolved some of the gloom. "You are dressed for travelling Mme Giry, are you going somewhere?"

"There is no easy way to tell you this Christine, but Meg and I have been ordered to leave here,"

Christine let out a shocked gasp. "But why?"

"The Vicomte is angry at us for hiding your secret. It is understandable in the circumstances. I have asked Charlotte to keep an eye you. Meg and I will not be far. I will be taking lodgings in the next town. It is only a couple of miles away," she assured Christine.

Christine's lip trembled as the tears started to fall. "I do not know how I will manage without you both. Erik has gone and now you," her voice broke. "How shall I bear it?"

Madame Giry was close to tears herself as she took Christine in her arms. "Christine, I am afraid for you. Never let your son out of your sight and if at any time you feel threatened, and then use this," she handed Christine the stolen gun.

Christine looked at the gun in stunned silence for a moment, before taking it from her. "I don't think I could…"

Mme Giry looked at her hardly. "You would if it came down to your son's life. Any mother would. If you need to you will find your nerve. I must go, be safe Christine. What friend would I be, if I did not try to protect those that Erik loved…that I love?"

"I meant that I have no idea how to use one," flushed Christine.

"Oh…it is simple. We have used fake ones in various productions at the opera house. It cannot be so different," said Madame Giry as she gave Christine a demonstration.

She kissed Christine's cheek and Meg did the same, before wrenching herself away from Christine on a sob. Erik Jean awoke and let up a keening wail. Christine picked him up and rocked him gently, holding on to the only thing in this life that she still had left.

* * *

Erik awoke, wincing in pain. His shoulder felt as if it were burning. He turned to see the Vicomte's doctor working on him.

"Do not be alarmed monsieur, I am removing the bullet, nothing more than that,"

"Christine?" he asked.

The doctor looked at him. The sadness and regret in his eyes genuine, as he told Erik of the girl's fate. Erik roared in pain and disbelief at the doctor's words.

The doctor swallowed fearfully as he quickly removed the bullet with shaking fingers. "I am sorry, childbirth is a dangerous undertaking for any woman no matter how young or strong,"

"And the child?" he asked.

"Your son…he died with his mother monsieur…he was stillborn,"

"You lie!" Erik tried to pull himself up into a sitting position, but found he had little strength. He slumped back against the pillows in impotent rage.

The doctor sighed and removed a piece of paper from his medical bag. He handed it to Erik. "Read this, I am very sorry for your loss," Unable to bear the anguish in the other man's eyes, he got up, walked over to the shuttered window and rested his head against the wooden slats.

Erik stared at the piece of paper, his heart beating wildly as he slowly unfolded it and read it aloud. "Christine De Chagny and child…Cause of death…post partum haemorrhage and child…stillborn," He crumpled the piece of paper in his hands, as the tears started to fall. "I want to see them; I need to see them,"

"You must rest. You have lost a lot of blood. At least give your shoulder time to heal. We would not want you to bleed to death,"

"Why? All that I care for is dead. I wish to join them," he said brokenly.

The doctor turned his back on Erik as he went back to his medical bag and took out a syringe. Before Erik could stop him, he felt the sting of the needle in his arm.

"Damn it man, what have you done to me?"

"Given you the chance to get some peace that is all,"

"That's something I never had…except when I was with her…" he scoffed as he closed his eyes.

"Sleep Monsieur for things always look better on the morn,"

"They will never…."

Doctor Vallaurio watched him for several more minutes, making sure that the drug had taken effect.

"God forgive me, for I cannot forgive myself," The doctor closed up his bag and exited the house leaving to Erik his troubled dreams.

* * *

Raoul hid deep in the shadows and watched as Meg and Mme Giry got into the carriage. She briefly glanced in his direction and he wondered for a moment if she had sensed his presence. Knowing they were safely on their way he went round to the back of the house to the stables. He shifted the weight of the heavy knapsack on his shoulder as he mounted his horse and set off for the family cemetery. _He had a scene to set._

Madame Giry looked out into the blackness of the countryside. Only the meagre light of the carriage lamps lit their way. They were not half way up the drive, when someone on a horse overtook them. As it passed the carriage, she caught a flash of white. The rider veered to the right and went in the direction of the estate graveyard. She could only assume it was Raoul and he had gone to gloat once more at the demise of Christine's lover.

"Charlotte watch over them, be vigilant at all times…" Madame Giry muttered under her breath.

* * *

Raoul swung open the gates of the family cemetery. The rusted hinges creaked in protest. Many a decapitated De Chagny rested here, a victim of the terror several decades ago. He had no fear of his ancestor's legacy as he lit a lantern and made his way through the graveyard. He arrived at the large marble monument that bore his predecessors remains. He unlocked the crypt door and entered it. Putting down the lantern, he took the knapsack from his shoulder placed it on the floor and there in the darkness of the crypt he began his decline into insanity as he opened the sack, taking out the carefully chosen items to aid his deception.

* * *

His head hurt, even the dull light that penetrated the window made him wince. He groaned aloud as he recalled the events of the previous day. He felt much stronger for his rest, but desolation swept in and covered him in despair weakening his very soul. _Christine and their child were dead. _He had to see her, to hold her once more, to say their final goodbyes.

Erik got up from the bed and with much effort managed to slip on a shirt. He buttoned it slowly, each movement causing him pain, but it kept him focused. He still wore the black trousers of the day before and they would have to do. It would hurt too much to wear his jacket, so he strode from the room in his shirtsleeves.

He paused to pick up his mask, looking at it, before letting it slip from his fingers. He left the house and went to his horse, and mounting it; he set off towards the great house. _He was not going to accept the word of some doctor in the Vicomte's employ until he had seen the evidence with his own eyes. It would never be over between Christine and himself, not even death could change that._

He pulled in the reigns of the horse before sliding from its back. He stumbled as his feet made contact with the ground, still a little weak from his injuries. Erik ran to the door and pounded on it with his fists. Moments later the butler opened it, looking shocked by the visitor's appearance. He covered his mouth in horror. Erik took no notice of the man's reaction, having seen it on too many people before now. He forced his way past the servant, taking him off guard.

* * *

Christine awoke to the sound of muffled shouting coming from a distance. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the tenderness between them. She pulled on her wrap and walked over to the door to see what all the commotion was.

She turned the door handle, and was shocked to find it locked. She rattled on it harder, but it would not give. _Raoul had locked her in here! _

"Raoul! Raoul! Let me out!"

Raoul smiled to himself on the other side of the door."No Christine, you are mine. I will keep you under lock and key until you learn to become a proper wife,"

"Please you are not well. Let me send for Doctor Vallaurio. You can't keep me here," she begged.

Her pleas were met with stony silence as she pounded impotent fists against the door. Erik Jean stirred in his crib and began to cry in earnest. She turned her attention back to her son, picking him up from the crib and rocking him in her arms.

The noise out in the hallway continued….

* * *

Erik punched one of the men that were trying to restrain him. He winced as he felt his wound tear open and the wetness of fresh blood on his shoulder. He did not care. The Vicomte De Chagny came towards him, a slow smile spreading across his face at the other man's distress.

"You are up and about sooner that I had hoped,"

"Where is she?" demanded Erik.

More servants appeared and helped to hold Erik back as he would have lunged at their master.

"Now that's not very civilised of you, now is it?" drawled Raoul. "My wife," he said with heavy emphasis before he continued. "My wife lies in the De Chagny crypt where your filthy hands can no longer touch her, along with that deformed bastard that she birthed. Oh yes the child was very bit as hideous as its maker,"

"You're lying!" he cried, paling at his words.

Raoul looked at him, a bored expression on his face. "If you do not believe me, go and see for yourself. She was interred there last night," He looked at the servants.

"Without so much as a Christian burial?" asked Erik. He knew how important her faith in God was even, if the Vicomte chose to ignore it. Her piety and her marriage had been one of her biggest obstacles when she had submitted to him.

"Christine was beyond God, she and her brat,"

Raoul walked away from Erik, the slow grin of earlier turned to laughter. Charlotte watched from the stairwell as the Vicomte disappeared into his study. She crept out from her hiding place, careful not to be seen as she made her way to her mistress's bedroom.

* * *

Christine was inside, staring at the walls with empty eyes as Erik Jean suckled at her breast. Not even the sight of her beautiful son could penetrate the coldness that seeped into her being. Charlotte had been knocking for some time before it even registered with her, so deeply enveloped was she in her own personal hell.

"Madame, Madame!"

"Charlotte?"

"Oui, I have something very important to tell you. The Vicomte has lied to you about Erik…he is not dead,"

Christine felt hope flare within her, quickly to be extinguished. "However, I saw him with my own eyes. What is this cruel game that you play?"

"I saw him but five minutes ago. He lives, I swear on my life," Charlotte told her breathlessly.

"Are you sure?"

"Tall man, brown hair and eyes like a sea in winter and his…face…"

"Erik! Where is he now?" Christine asked, sucking in her breath_. He was alive!_

"He came to the house looking for you Madame. Raoul has somehow convinced him that you are dead and lie in the family cemetery along with your babe,"

"Oh no, I have to get out of here. Charlotte do you know if Madame Giry had a key to this room?" asked Christine.

"Any keys that she had she would have had to hand back to the master. If any were missing he would notice,"

"I know it is a lot to ask, but do you think you could try to find them for me?"

"I do not know Madame, I am frightened. Please forgive me for saying this, but your husband has been acting very strangely even some of the men are afraid of him,"

"Please, Charlotte, Erik's life may depend on it,"

"Very well Madame, but where do you suggest I try in such a large house? It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack,"

Christine thought for a moment. "The study, try the study. Be careful Charlotte, I could not bear if anything were to befall you," she warned.

"I will be careful,"

Christine looked down at her sleeping child. She stroked his brown hair, touching a finger to his rosebud lips. "Did you hear that Erik Jean? Your father still lives!" The tears of joy that ran down her face, dropped onto her babe, and she wiped them away. "We are going to escape this place tonight and find him,"

* * *

He stood on the steps to the De Chagny vault, not wanting to go further. He eyed the fresh flowers that were stacked up against the crypt door. A silver framed photograph looked back at him mocking his loss. Christine's beautiful face contained within its frame. Here lie his family. A family that had perished before it had had a chance to live. He could see the faint glow of candles, almost burned to stubs inside its interior. Erik did not even try the rusted gate. It was securely fastened. He had neither the strength or inclination, knowing it would be fruitless. _Maybe if he lay here long enough he would die of cold._ Anything was better than the pain he felt. He picked up Christine's picture and studied it. Her beautiful eyes looked back at him as if they held a secret. He wondered if it had been taken after they had become lovers.

Erik felt a premonitory prickle at the back of his neck. He stood up and looked around the deserted cemetery. He thought back to the doctor and his behaviour of the previous evening. He wanted to know everything about Christine and their child, not satisfied with what Raoul had told him. He was used to reading fear in people's faces and the doctor had been no exception.

He strode from the graveyard to his waiting horse. He knew the doctor only lived in the next village as Christine had told him so. It was late afternoon and if he were quick, he might reach there before nightfall. Erik mounted his horse and rode back to the summerhouse to collect his cape and then he set off in search of Doctor Vallaurio. The doctor was hiding something. Erik would not leave him until he got the answers he sought…even if he had to shake the life out of him. _If Christine were gone from this world he would know it, but in his heart, he felt her as strongly as if she were beside him. He had let his grief cloud his instincts and it had cost him valuable time. _

* * *

How many hours Charlotte had hid near the master's study she did not know. She had long ceased to feel her legs. _Surely, he would get up and leave soon? _She had seen several servants attend him in her arduous wait. About to give up and return to her mistress, she heard the sound of someone coming to the door. The footsteps made her heart pound faster, as the door was suddenly flung open and Raoul stood there, pausing for several moments before he slammed the door behind him and strode off down the hall.

Charlotte quickly made her move, not knowing how long to expect his absence. She quickly entered the study, a gasp left her lips as she took in the usually immaculate room. Papers were strewn everywhere and a bottle of wine lay on its side. The contents having been spilt across the desk like a huge bloodstain. The room reeked of stale alcohol. She headed straight for the desk and opened the drawers, frantically searching for a sign of Madame Giry's house keys.

She finally found them and as her hand closed around them, she heard the sound of returning footsteps. She looked frantically towards the door, the handle was turning. In a blind panic, she ran and hid behind the drapes and closed her eyes in silent prayer as she heard the Vicomte return. _She was trapped._

* * *

Erik rode into the neighbouring village just as night fell. He entered the tavern, his face for the most part concealed as he made his way to the bar.

"I am looking for Doctor Vallaurio," he growled at the innkeeper.

"Never heard of him," replied the man. Erik leaned over the counter and smashed the proprietor's head against the bar. " I think I remember monsieur…he lives a couple of streets away in the Rue de la Blanc,"

Erik pressed the man's head down into the wood once more. "If I find you have been lying to me, I will return,"

"It's the truth, I swear it monsieur,"

Erik released the man, hearing a gasp behind him; he turned to face a shocked Madame Giry.

"Oh Erik…you are alive?"

"Unfortunately yes. Sorry I do not have the time to question your presence here, but I have somewhere to be,"

Madame Giry had been sure that she had conjured up a real phantom in her grief stricken mind when she had first seen him. The shock slowly began to fade.

"Yes, by Christine and your child's side,"

"There is nothing I would love more than to be by their sides in the churchyard,"

Madame Giry looked at Erik in confusion. "I do not understand, Christine and the babe are well. They live…I don't know what you have been told…"

"They live?"

Madame Giry saw the glitter of some great emotion in his eyes as he let the cowl of his cloak slip from his face.

"Oui," she nodded.

"Forgive my former lack of interest, but why are you not with them?"

"Because the Vicomte dismissed Meg and me. We took rooms here in this inn so that we could be close in case she needed us. I-I hesitate to say this, but I think Raoul has run mad,"

Erik took Madame Giry by the arm. "We have a doctor to see, I need some answers,"

Erik and Madame Giry weaved their way through the narrow streets until they came to the home of Monsieur Vallaurio.

"You knock on the door. He will not answer it to me," he told her.

Madame Giry knocked on the heavy oak door and Erik stepped into the shadows. A window opened overhead.

"What is it?" asked the doctor.

"Please come quickly Monsieur, the Vicomtess has been taken ill,"

"I will be down presently," he replied closing the window.

A few moments later, they heard the sound of bolts being drawn back. The doctor stepped out of his house, and Erik lunged forward and gripped the physician by the throat.

"Tell me now why I shouldn't kill you," he hissed in the doctor's ear.

"Please, monsieur, I did not want to lie to you. He made me do it,"

"What exactly did you do?" asked Madame Giry

"The Vicomte forced me to write out a death certificate for his wife and the child. He wanted his wife's lover to believe it to be true so that he would leave them alone,"

"Well you have achieved your goal, Christine is left alone and with a dangerous man," She replied.

Erik released his grip on the doctor. "I must go to her,"

"Be careful, I suspect that he is gripped by the same malaise as his poor mother,"

Erik paused to turn around. "What exactly do you mean?"

"It is in his family you see…his mother died in a sanatorium,"

Erik felt fresh anger build inside him. "Why was no one ever told of this?"

"Madness is not something you advertise in polite society,"

Erik looked at Madame Giry before running down the street to where his horse was tethered.

TBC


	22. The Fall of the house of De Chagny

The Fall of the house of De Chagny

Chapter 22

Christine paced the floorboards of her bedroom. Charlotte had been gone too long. With each passing moment, the fear that something had happened to her faithful maid grew. Erik Jean had been fretful for most of the evening and no amount of comfort she offered eased it. Christine wondered if he were sensing her distress in some small way. She thought about the gun she had concealed beneath her pillow. _Could she ever use it on another human being and more importantly on Raoul?_

Madame Giry's words came back to her… **You** **would if it came down to your son's life. Any mother would. If you need to, you will find your nerve.**

Christine looked down at her tiny child and a fierce rush of love for him filled her. At that moment, she knew the answer…that she would defend her baby with the last breath in her body if it were required of her.

She had to find Erik. The fear that he would harm himself in someway if he continued to believe her dead was foremost in her mind. He had said to her on several occasions that he would not want to live without her.

She froze as she heard approaching footsteps, relaxing as they continued past her door and down the hall. She had thought to call out to a servant for aid, but many of the established help were faithful to Raoul. She walked over to the crib to pick up her son, and rocked him gently in her arms as she watched the door.

"Charlotte where are you?" she asked aloud in the now silent room as the baby finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Charlotte trembled in fear as she hid behind the curtains, listening to the mad ramblings of the master, punctuated by the occasional burst of hysterical laughter.

"Christine is my wife. Going to make her love me…kill the brat…yes that will make her love me again. She will forget all about him with her bastard under the ground. He must die tonight,"

Charlotte gasped aloud, covering her mouth in horror as he fell silent. She could hear his laboured breathing in the room as he came to a stop in front of the curtains. Charlotte held her breath. Her heart pounding in her chest so wildly she was sure he must hear it. She screamed in terror, as the curtains were wrenched open with such force that they were ripped from the railings.

"Monsieur le Vicomte…I was sent to clean and I.."

"Do not bother to explain yourself. I am beginning to know a liar when I see one. Women are practised deceivers. I know who sent you and why,"

He grabbed a hold of one of her wrists and dragged her over to the desk. He opened a draw, took out a bunch of keys and held them in front of her.

"Please let me go," sobbed the girl.

Raoul ignored her pleas. "Are these what you seek?" he jangled the keys in her face. Charlotte remained silent. Raoul twisted her arm behind her back.

"Y-yes," she cried in pain

"Did my wife send you?" he asked twisting her arm a little more.

Charlotte gasped at the renewed pain. "Oui monsieur," she collapsed on the floor, nursing her arm as he finally released her. She looked up at the Vicomte through her tears. "May I go now?" she sobbed.

Raoul smiled down at her coldly. "Yes you may," he struck her hard across the cheek, causing her head to reel back and hit the edge of the desk. She felt a sharp sting of pain then nothing.

Raoul dragged her inert form over to the window. He took the corded tiebacks from the curtains and began to bind her arms and legs. He stood back to look at her. Satisfied with his work as he stuffed his pocket-handkerchief in her mouth to silence her when she finally awoke.

* * *

Erik pushed his horse to the limits of its endurance as he rode it towards the De Chagny estate. He was still absorbing the information that Christine lived and that he was a father. Fear tinged the absolute joy he might have felt at the news that she and their son were alive. Fear that he would not be able to reach them before the Vicomte harmed them in some way. He had wanted to squeeze the life out of that lying doctor. Maybe if there had been more time then he would have.

He closed his mind off to the possibilities of what his family might be suffering at the hands of that lunatic at this very moment. _Family_, a word he had never dreamt of being associated with himself in the same sentence. He ached to hold Christine and know his child. His only regret being that he had allowed Raoul to mislead him in the truth of Christine's fate. _He should have known to never trust the word of that boy whenever to came to the subject of Christine. _

His heart contracted with love for his son. That his son shared his affliction of face did nothing to change that love. He had loved his child with all his heart from the day that he had known of its existence. He had always felt the child she had carried in her womb to be his deep down in the soul, which some had doubted he even possessed

His horse thundered through the gates of the estate, frothing from the exertion of their long gallop. Erik carried on riding not to the house, but to his home. Raoul had ordered him shot on sight and he was in no mood to embark on a suicide mission. He reigned in the horse, hardly waiting for it to come to a halt before running into the house.

He took his two pistols, checking they were fully loaded before he tucked them into the waistband of his trousers. He slipped the stiletto dagger into his boot and strapped his sword around his middle. He removed his lasso from the closet and shrugged on his jacket to conceal his arsenal of weapons before he ran back out to his horse.

* * *

"Hush Erik Jean, your father will come for us," crooned Christine to her child. _But how could he, if he believed them to be dead?_ Christine still clung to the hope that Erik would not believe the lies her husband had told. It was all she had left at that moment. He had to know they still lived. _Hadn't she been ready to believe him dead after seeing him on the field directly after the duel?_

Christine heard approaching footsteps again, she tensed as the key rattled in the lock. _Charlotte must have found the keys._ She lay the baby down in his crib and ran to the doors.

"Charlotte," she whispered.

She cried out as she was knocked back onto the floor as the door was flung open by her husband. Christine winced in pain as she hit the ground, her body still tender from childbirth.

Raoul closed and locked the door behind him. "Were you expecting someone else my dear?"

"W-where is Charlotte?" asked Christine fearfully.

"She is safe and sound in the study, where you sent her…for these," he taunted, holding up the keys to her face.

"You did not harm her?"

"No, she lives, but she won't be able to go anywhere or report to your lover if that's what you are thinking of. Yes my love, I know that you know he still lives. I saw the renewed hope in your eyes the moment I entered the room. Why else would you want to escape, but to run to his arms? I was rather enjoying the pain his death brought you,"

"Raoul let me go," she pleaded quietly.

"Never. I would rather see you and that bastard of yours dead before I would release you to play happy families with him. He is a monster Christine, barely human,"

"Some monsters wear their masks on the inside," she whispered to herself.

Raoul's eyes widened as he advanced on her. Christine backed away, falling onto the bed. Raoul straddled her and pinned her arms above her head. He stayed like that for several minutes, just scowling at her. Christine looked back at him with ill-concealed fear. She breathed a sigh of relief as he got off the bed and left her there, before he begun to pace up and down the room muttering to himself. He hardly seemed to know she was even there, for which she was grateful.

Erik Jean decided at that moment to cry. Christine trembled as the sound brought Raoul's attention back to them. She quickly removed the babe from the crib and fastened him to her breast. Raoul watched them with disgust from across the room.

"Do not grow too attached to him. There are many misfortunes that can strike at an infant on his road to adulthood," sneered Raoul.

"You would not harm him," said Christine protectively.

"Who will stop me? Do you know what people do with an unwanted litter Christine?"

"N-no,"

"They take the kittens and place them in a sack weighted down with a stone and then they throw them into the river,"

"I would die before I let you harm my son," she spat back at him.

"That can be arranged. If I can't have you, then I will make sure no one else can…least of all your abomination of a man," he smiled at her.

"Please listen to yourself Raoul, you need help. We can get through this; there are doctors who can help you,"

"N-no," he said uncertainly, before continuing more forcefully. "It is too late for that, this is the only way. With your child dead you will love me again,"

"You dare hurt my baby and anything I might have once felt for you dies with him,"

Raoul spun around on his heels before advancing on Christine as she protectively held her child to her.

* * *

Erik crept closer to the house, lights blazed from almost every window. He made his way towards where he knew Christine's bedroom was situated, hoping to gain entrance to it through the balcony windows. His fists clenched as he could hear the raised voices of Raoul and Christine coming from the room. The drapes were drawn across the window, but a tiny gap in them allowed him to see the scene before him.

He could see Christine sitting on the bed holding something, she got up and he saw it was their child. Although he was unable to see his face, he felt a surprising rush of emotion for his son. He heard an angry roar as Raoul lunged at Christine and slapped her hard across the face, sending her and the baby flying backwards onto the bed.

He let out an agonized bellow as he was spurred into action. He tried the door handles, finding them locked, he punched through the pane of glass and tried to unlock it by passing his hand through the broken window, but it still would not open. Erik was past caring that the shards of glass had cut the flesh of his hands to ribbons.

Raoul charged towards the window and flung back the curtains.

"Erik!" Christine cried.

Raoul grinned at him vacantly for a moment, before striding back towards the bed and Christine. Erik picked up one of the stone urns that were either side of the doors and threw it through the window. He felt his shoulder wound tear with the effort, but he did not care. He was almost out of his own mind with blind panic as he saw Raoul try to wrest the baby from her arms.

Christine screamed as Raoul hit her again, this time she did not get up. Erik jean was wailing at the top of his lungs as Raoul reached for him. The click of a gun being cocked halted his movements.

Erik pulled himself up on the ledge and crawled through the broken glass before dropping to his feet in the room.

"Touch Christine and my son again De Chagny and it will be your last action in this world. I will make you suffer in ways you could only imagine until now," Erik told him menacingly.

"You think I would want to sully my hands with that mongrel you sired on my wife?" he sneered. "Should have killed it at birth when I had the chance,"

Erik's hand tightened on the pistol, his trigger finger becoming itchy as he looked at the bane of his existence. Nothing would give him greater pleasure than to shoot the Vicomte down in cold blood, so he was no longer a threat to those he loved, but he found he could not do it. He felt an upsurge of pity as he regarded the deranged once great man.

"Step away from the bed," he commanded him coldly.

Raoul smiled at him with empty eyes before bending over the bed and reaching for the child. Neither he or Erik were prepared for the sound of gunfire as Christine pulled out her hand from under the pillow and shot Raoul at almost point blank range. His eyes widened in surprise as his legs gave way.

"You will not touch my baby," she whispered to him, the tears falling down her cheeks.

Raoul clutched at his stomach, looking at her again in shocked disbelief. "Christine…"

"Forgive me," she pleaded, her heart breaking.

Raoul looked at her and smiled as his hand reached out. Christine rose from the bed and walked towards him. His smile turned to laughter as he knocked the branch of candles from the table next to him. They hit the rich Aubusson rug, instantly igniting it. The flames licked along the mat, as they caught the edge of the bed and spread further. Smoke quickly filled the room.

Christine snatched her screaming son from the bed, moving him out of harms way of the fire.

"I will never forgive you. Burn in the same hell you flung me into, you and your lover," he hissed at her.

He groaned, took a deep breath and saw no more as his vacant eyes looked back at her. Christine knelt down and kissed his cheek before gently closing his sightless eyes.

"I am so sorry Raoul," she whispered.

"We have to get out of here Christine; the fire is spreading quickly,"

Christine held her son close to her as she tried to shield him as best she could from the smoke filled room.

"Try Raoul's coat. He might have the keys in there,"

Erik walked over to the fallen Vicomte and searched his jacket.

"I cannot find them and we cannot go out through the window, it is too dangerous for our son,"

Christine was momentarily arrested by the words _our son. _"Please there must be a way; surely, God would not be so cruel as to take us when we have only found each other again,"

The sounds of chaos as the household was awoken could already be clearly heard. A bell was rung somewhere in the distance as the servants were evacuated. Erik charged at the thick wooden door. It would not give.

"The gun…try shooting the lock," suggested Christine.

Erik found the revolver on the bed and pointed it at the door. "Christine get away from the door,"

He fired the gun, but the bullet ricocheted hitting a vase on the mantle, shattering it into a thousand pieces.

"It is no good; we will have to take our chances through the window. Give me our son I will protect him from the broken glass,"

"Christine," cried a voice through the door.

"Madame Giry?" asked Christine, hardly able to believe her ears. "Please get help we are trapped in here, Raoul is dead and I cannot find the keys to the door,"

"Is Erik with you?" she asked.

"Yes, but the fire is spreading, we don't have much time," Christine replied urgently.

Moments later Madame Giry returned. "I have returned with Charlotte's brother Jacques. Stand away from the door while he tries to break it down,"

Erik took Christine in his arms while they waited. The heat in the room intensified as she clung to him in fear.

"If we do not make it out of here I want you to know that I love you. That everything that has happened these last few months has been worth it just to be with you. When I bore your son, I cried, for I believed you to be dead and it broke my heart to think you would never look on our child, Erik Jean,"

Erik looked at her, swallowing down the emotion that rose to clog his throat at the mention of his son's name, but he could not bring himself to look at his child. The fear in his heart too great that he would see the same mark on his son that had brought him such pain and suffering. The Vicomte had told him that the boy shared his deformity and he was terrified to see if it were true. _Raoul had lied about so many other things…_

_If they were to die in this room, then he wanted it to be with the perfect image he had of his child in his head, not the possible reality._

He was brought back from his thoughts as the doors finally gave way and burst open to reveal Madame Giry and Jacques. Erik took Christine's arm and led her though the smoke filled hallways and out to the fresh air. She checked her son over, by some miracle, he had fallen asleep in all the fuss, but Christine would not be reassured until she could feel his breath on her cheek. She kissed him, and as her tears fell, they made tracks on her son's soot stained face. She wiped them away as Madame Giry led her to the waiting carriage that she had herself arrived in. Erik followed her, his arm about her at all times.

"Have you seen my sister?" asked Jacques.

"Charlotte!" Christine was ashamed at herself for having forgotten the girl in all the confusion. "Raoul said something about her being in his study,"

"I have to go back for her,"

"I will assist you," said Erik.

Most of the servants had abandoned the house and were disappearing into the night leaving the house to burn as the rumour that their employer was dead, spread among their ranks.

"Thank you monsieur," he nodded gratefully.

"No, do not go! There must be someone else," she pleaded.

"Have you looked around you? There is no one else," Erik told her gently.

He swiftly kissed her before running into the burning house with Jacques at his heels. Christine hid her face in Madame Giry's shoulder while she waited in the agonies of her own hell, for his return.

"There child do not worry, Erik can take care of himself,"

A thought occurred to Christine as she raised her face to look at Madame Giry. "Why won't Erik look at our son?"

Madame Giry frowned. "I have no idea unless…Oh Christine, have you thought he might be afraid that his son bore his mark?"

"It just never occurred to me. Erik Jean is beautiful, and perfect of face. I never thought he would…"

"When he returns make him look at his son. He needs to do this, maybe Erik Jean can begin to heal some of those wounds that life has inflicted upon him,"

Christine nodded her understanding. She handed the child to Madame Giry as she stepped out of the carriage. She let out an agonised cry as she was just in time to see the roof of the west wing collapse. _The study was in the west wing._ Christine picked up her skirts and begun to run towards the house only to be held back by the strong arms of the carriage driver, at Madame Giry's request.

She fought against the man, collapsing into the damp grass as her legs buckled beneath her. She heard the sound of screaming not sure, where it came from until she realised it was she.

A gentle hand touched her shoulder and she looked up into Madame Giry's face. "Look Christine," she urged.

Christine looked up to see Erik walking towards them carrying the limp body of Charlotte in his arms. She managed to get to her feet and ran to run to them.

"Where is Jacques?" she asked.

Erik looked at her. "The ceiling fell in on the study just as we were getting her out, he didn't make it,"

"Charlotte is she..."

"She is alive, but barely," said Erik as he placed her inside the carriage.

The moment his arms were empty she launched herself into them. "I thought I had lost you all over again,"

Erik enveloped her tightly in his embrace. "You will never lose me," He touched his finger to her soot blackened cheek

Both were brought back to the present by the wail of their son from the carriage. Christine left his arms to retrieve Erik Jean from Madame Giry. She gazed on his perfection, illuminated by the carriage lamps.

"Erik come here, I would have you meet your son,"

Erik swallowed; she read the fear in his eyes and she held out her hand to him. He slowly came towards her as he took her hand in his. Christine held up the boy to him. She heard the almost inaudible gasp as it left his lips. The silence dragged on, as she glanced at his face, surprised to see the tears that fell. Christine let go of his hand and passed their infant into his arms.

Erik looked up at her in shock. "He is beautiful…" He could see his likeness in the child as he touched the soft skin of his unblemished cheeks. "So perfect…Raoul, he told me that our child had inherited my mark,"

"You are every bit as beautiful as your son to me,"

Several moments passed as neither of them spoke. Christine studied Erik's face as he looked down on his son in wonderment. To see this gruff sometimes-violent man cradling his child with all the tenderness in the world, moved her more than any words ever could.

Christine looked down at the ground in shame as she remembered Raoul. "Oh Erik tonight I killed a man. How will I ever live with that?"

Erik gently kissed his son, before looking up at her. "Raoul was mad. He was not altogether responsible for his actions,"

"But I drove him to that madness,"

"It is not true. I caught up with the good doctor tonight. Raoul's mother died in an institution for the insane. It is in his family's blood. Our actions may have brought it on, but…"

"But I will have to spend the rest of my life wondering if it were my fault," Christine finished.

Erik sighed as he took placed an arm about her shoulder. "Welcome to the real world Christine. We all have to live with the consequences of our choices, every day of our lives. No one will ever know if we were the cause of Raoul's descent into madness, but I will not allow you to spend the rest of your life eaten up with guilt for it. You protected your child, that was noble in itself ," he kissed the top of her head as he led to her to carriage.

She paused for a moment on the step, to look back at the house before getting into it. Erik sat beside her, still holding their son as she rested her head against his shoulder.

She looked at Charlotte, as she lay on the seats of the opposite side, still unconscious. Someone would have to tell her the sad news of her brother, but for now, she would let her rest. Madame Giry tapped the roof of the carriage to tell the driver to be on his way and with a lurch, the coach set off.

Erik looked at Christine "Thank you,"

"For what?" she asked.

"For our son and for loving me, the man on the inside," he replied. "I don't deserve such happiness for the wicked life I have led,"

"You are due a surfeit of happiness in your joyless life Erik. Do not ever doubt that. I love you,"

Erik leant down to kiss her lips, tasting the smoke from the fire upon them, but paying it no heed. Their son began to cry again and Christine took him from Erik's arms.

"I think someone is hungry. Trust him to think of food at a time like this," she replied as she unbuttoned her gown.

Erik watched in awe as their son took nourishment from her body. He smiled at her, she was a natural mother and it warmed him to know that his son would never know the indifference he had suffered at the hands of his own mother.

"Christine I love you," he whispered.

Madame Giry smiled to herself. Erik had found his place at last and with that, she hoped he would finally know peace he longed for with the love of Christine and his child to fill his years ahead.

TBC

A/N that is more or less the end, there is an epilogue chapter that I will be posting afterwards. Thanks to everyone for reading and reviewing.


	23. Epilogue

Epilogue

The beginning of their new life did not commence at soon as they might have wished. After the fire, Christine had had a funeral to arrange and found it more convenient to move into the old summerhouse with Erik and their child. Then there had been endless questions from the authorities as to the nature of the Vicomte's death

Doctor Vallaurio, eager to make amends for his previous ill deeds had stood as a witness to the mental instability of the Vicomte. Charlotte had told of Raoul's treatment of her and finally the magistrate had been satisfied that it had been nothing more than a case of self defence and left them to their mourning. Christine had shed tears for Raoul, for she had cared deeply for him. Her tears were more for the childhood friend that she had lost than the husband he had been and Charlotte grieved for her brother.

He tried to understand as best he could and offer comfort when it was needed. More often than not, he would retreat into the bedroom and watch his sleeping child and left Charlotte and Christine to share in their pain of having lost a loved one. Sharing his time and life were slowly becoming more natural to him as he began to trust enough to let people in. Erik Jean had gone a long way to achieve the change in him, but miracles rarely happened overnight.

Erik was secure in the knowledge that he had her, heart and soul, he and this little scrap of humanity that had become the world to him. He loved nothing more than to watch his son sleep, still lost in the wonderment that he could be part of something so beautiful.

When the will had been read, Christine had been shaken to find that Raoul had had last word, bequeathing everything to a distant cousin. Once the shock had faded and that she realised it had been for the best. It had been liberating, but now she had nowhere to go, even though Erik had assured her that he was not without funds. Madame Giry had once again been her saviour in that matter as she had handed Christine the deeds to the house by the sea that she had lived in with her father all those long years ago.

Christine had been surprised, thinking the house had been sold on her father's death, but Madame Giry informed her that she had been asked to keep it in trust until Christine had need of it. The house was entailed to her and none of Raoul's family had any legal right to it. After Christine had found herself with a new home, she had arranged for the time they would leave here.

The fates had decided that they would make their home in Honfleur, a place she remembered fondly and the perfect place to raise a child. It would afford them the privacy she knew that Erik would need. He was never going to be comfortable in big crowds of people; she knew that and understood why.

Meg had stayed with them for the first few weeks, until she had informed them that she had been offered an audition in Milan. One of the girls at the opera populaire corps had put in a good word for her. It had been too good an opportunity for her to miss and with heavy heart not two days ago; Christine had held her friend and wished her well.

Raoul's cousin, Antoine had arrived the day before, and there was no need for them to stay here any longer. Raoul's relative had been understandably hostile when faced with the means of his cousin's death. Erik had shown him the sharp end of a sword, which had sent him away quicker than he had arrived.

It had been a blessed release for her to know that she was finally able to leave this place of so much sadness as well as joy. She knew that she and Erik would not be truly able to live while under its shadow. Charlotte was to come with them to Honfleur and be their maid, it was a position she had eagerly accepted, having nowhere else to go.

She had tried to persuade Madame Giry to come with them, but she was eager to get back to Paris after she had heard that the Opera Populaire was to be re-built. Madame Giry was to accompany them on their journey to Honfleur, but after that, she would directly return to Paris. It was with heavy heart that Christine shrugged of the remnants of her old life to embrace the new…

Christine wrapped what was left of her possessions into newspaper before placing them in old tea chests. Not all of the great house had been destroyed by fire, but it was too painful for her to go back to it. That she could see its silhouette on the horizon, a blackened shell of its former beauty was hard enough for her to bear. She finally understood that there was _nothing_ thoughtless in taking a human life… she was brought back to the present by someone knocking on the front door.

Erik came striding back into the room, a dagger concealed behind his back. Christine sighed, love could change a lot, but it took time. She walked over to him, took the blade from his resisting fingers, and placed it on the table.

"Erik have you ever heard the saying that those who live by the sword, die by the sword?" she sighed.

"I am sorry my love, but old habits die hard,"

Christine went to the door to let in their caller.

"Madame Giry," She smiled in pleasure.

"I have come to tell you that the men are here with the cart and are ready to load it up,"

Christine looked at her lover. "Come Erik, it is time," she said softly, her smile faded as she read the agitation in his manner.

"Madame Giry, would you take Erik Jean to the carriage. I would like a moment alone with Christine," It was more than a demand than a question, but Mme Giry was well used to his curt manner and did as he requested.

"Do not be long, the men are waiting and we are paying them by the day," She scolded them before taking Erik Jean and leaving them alone.

Erik began to pace the room uneasily.

"What is it?" she asked. "If you are afraid of what it will be like at Honfleur do not fret for it is small enough…"

She was cut off by Erik hauling her into his arms and kissing her breathless. They broke apart, both breathing heavily.

"I do not know how to go about this… I need to ask you something,"

"You can ask me anything, you know that,"

Erik placed a hand inside his waistcoat, took something from it, and held out his hand. She looked down at the ring she had never thought to see again. As she looked at it, she knew the question he asked. She held out her own hand as he read the acceptance in her eyes, even now after all they had shared he had been afraid of rejection.

No flowery words or promises followed her acceptance; they were not necessary. They would have been out of place in their world. All they felt for each other was conveyed in the perfect silence of the room and the emotion in their eyes.

The sound of the men knocking on the door brought them back to the present. They took one last look at the room before exiting the house where they had found love and laughter and had made their son. As they made their way to the carriage, Christine realised that Erik had finally been given his chance to walk in the sun.

After the year of required mourning had passed, and in the medieval church Gonneville-Sur-Honfleur the couple were finally united by a priest. Life was not always calm or peaceful as the wife of a man so scarred by a violent past, but it was a life well lived in love and trust.

THE END

A/N Thanks for reading. I have just started writing my new Poto fic and will be uploading it asap.


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